liquidation
"Tell me why."
"Why?"
"I'm not joking."
"What made you think that I was?" Her eyes flash with anger, hurt, pride burning up inside of her, liquidating her, eating her alive. "How can I answer you? How can I answer you when I don't even know how to answer myself?"
A tear falls and slides down her cheek despite her attempt to hold it back. Her attempt at control. Her attempt at impartiality. It is hot, a drop of liquid fire. And it burns her skin with its smoldering trail. But even the heat that comes from it, the heat that brands her, is nothing compared to the searing pain that erupts from her heart. Each pump adds more until she feels she has white-hot fire coursing through her. Throughout her.
He looks away, down at the floor, at his hands, at the speck of dust taking up precious space on the floor. Anything but her. Anything but the look of hurt in her eyes. Anything to keep him from feeling the guilt.
"How did this happen?" His voice is soft, his question whispered. Almost unintentionally dropped. Said by accident.
His voice incredulous. Disbelief finally showing through, reality become more surreal than he ever thought real life could be.
He looks up, embarassed. Wondering if she heard. Torn on whether or not he wants her to have.
She's tense, sitting there on the bed, rocking slowly back and forth like a little girl, tears peeking through her tightly closed eyes and leading glistening trails down her cheekbones until they stop at her chin and drop to the floor.
Splash.
Slowly, ever so slowly, control seeps into her face, swallowing its features. Emotion can be a b****. When it is, compartmentalize.
When she looks up again, her skin is clear and unclenched. Her eyes are the only thing that give her away. She opens her mouth but closes it again, fighting for control.
He wishes he could help.
But he's powerless.
All he can do is wait.
It's the least he can do.
After all, he obviously didn't do it the first time.
She opens her mouth again, the voice coming out of it sad, low, and soft. As if if she spoke any louder, the world might fall apart.
It already had.
"Why?"
He feels as if he should know the answer to this question. He feels as if he should, by intuition, know exactly what she is talking about, be able to say the perfect thing, and comfort her. Make her safe. But he's lost, wallowing about in his own mashed up world.
"Why what?"
Her words are measured. Careful. "Why did you give up on me?"
He can hear- no... feel- his heart slowly breaking, the little shreds peppering his system until he's nauseous. He would give anything for a decent reason... anything for something half-way forgivable.
"I... I don't know."
the end??? I'm not sure yet... this was a product of late night inspiration~ tell me if you want more.
more?
-jenn
"Tell me why."
"Why?"
"I'm not joking."
"What made you think that I was?" Her eyes flash with anger, hurt, pride burning up inside of her, liquidating her, eating her alive. "How can I answer you? How can I answer you when I don't even know how to answer myself?"
A tear falls and slides down her cheek despite her attempt to hold it back. Her attempt at control. Her attempt at impartiality. It is hot, a drop of liquid fire. And it burns her skin with its smoldering trail. But even the heat that comes from it, the heat that brands her, is nothing compared to the searing pain that erupts from her heart. Each pump adds more until she feels she has white-hot fire coursing through her. Throughout her.
He looks away, down at the floor, at his hands, at the speck of dust taking up precious space on the floor. Anything but her. Anything but the look of hurt in her eyes. Anything to keep him from feeling the guilt.
"How did this happen?" His voice is soft, his question whispered. Almost unintentionally dropped. Said by accident.
His voice incredulous. Disbelief finally showing through, reality become more surreal than he ever thought real life could be.
He looks up, embarassed. Wondering if she heard. Torn on whether or not he wants her to have.
She's tense, sitting there on the bed, rocking slowly back and forth like a little girl, tears peeking through her tightly closed eyes and leading glistening trails down her cheekbones until they stop at her chin and drop to the floor.
Splash.
Slowly, ever so slowly, control seeps into her face, swallowing its features. Emotion can be a b****. When it is, compartmentalize.
When she looks up again, her skin is clear and unclenched. Her eyes are the only thing that give her away. She opens her mouth but closes it again, fighting for control.
He wishes he could help.
But he's powerless.
All he can do is wait.
It's the least he can do.
After all, he obviously didn't do it the first time.
She opens her mouth again, the voice coming out of it sad, low, and soft. As if if she spoke any louder, the world might fall apart.
It already had.
"Why?"
He feels as if he should know the answer to this question. He feels as if he should, by intuition, know exactly what she is talking about, be able to say the perfect thing, and comfort her. Make her safe. But he's lost, wallowing about in his own mashed up world.
"Why what?"
Her words are measured. Careful. "Why did you give up on me?"
He can hear- no... feel- his heart slowly breaking, the little shreds peppering his system until he's nauseous. He would give anything for a decent reason... anything for something half-way forgivable.
"I... I don't know."
the end??? I'm not sure yet... this was a product of late night inspiration~ tell me if you want more.
more?
-jenn
