> @llosgcariad,
home is the first grave, it creaks & groans the longer you stay in it; this house has seen the worse parts of you & wants to keep you inside ( ... ) you are certain it will die with you. grandmother was a fanatical religious, when she saw it fit; she punished you, jonathan cannot count the amount of times she's locked you in the aviary. your fingers are always curled up high, repeating the same words────୨ৎ please, god, please, please; repentence burns within the softened tissues of your heart, over & over you beg for an ounce of salvation for the very sinfulness of your being. talking to god, the conversation goes like this, always; i'm sorry, please forgive me, then silence. all you ever hear are a hundred wings & the haunting sounds of crows cawing against your skin; there is only a world you know where god makes you suffer. tonight, you could thank his company for the reason you had not been harmed; even though the wounds underneath your clothes ache, he's enough to keep your mind off them ( ... ) too many of what you wore was stained in reminders of your disobedience. literature was wrong, so was liking boys; she does not need to know how much this one means to you.
jonathan asked her previously if you could invite a friend for dinner, she questioned your intentions, you can still hear her words; you don't have friends, but you knew better than to talk back. the only way you could prove that is to bring him over, there are too many anxious thoughts in your head; if she would make offhanded comments, ask him too many questions OR turn him away ( ... ) apis zuburi was the only lifeline you had, you wouldn't let her destroy this for you too. you're antsy, nerves had begun to stir underneath your skin; you know she's in the kitchen, the putrid scent of tonight's dinner was brewing on the stovetop, it reminded you far too much of that chemical she puts in the fibers of your clothes. that, you knew, you'd never get out, no matter how many washes; it's embedded into your skin ( ... ) some nights you wished you could pull it off. he's by your side, you do not expect a positive response OR any affirmations of the company you brought; you can see her eyes, cold, intense, boring into him. it's that judgement you know, it's like she can pick him apart before he even sat down; a breath, her silence is no better than her words ( ... ) either one would result in reprimanding later.
your bag is hung over the back of a chain, the kitchen was old, the wooden floors creaked & the cabinets had an aged smell; like the pages of your books. there is a spiraling staircase in the other room, the manor itself was larger than it looked. upstairs, there are multiple bedrooms, one you called yours; jonathan can imagine she already dug through your things & found more 'erotica' to use against you. literature was condemned, regardless of what it was; inside your bag, there were new ones ( ... ) you found it in luck there was a library by campus. " ... you can have a seat, OR head upstairs to freshen up. " it's directed to apis, you give him a soft look, lingering behind the chair at the table; " ... may i sit? " anything to appease her, you can hear the grumbled ' yes ' out of her lips. you pull it out & sit far too quickly, eyes drawing from grandmother to apis; " ... guests get special treatment, you do not have to ask to sit, i promise. just make sure you hang your bag up & keep your elbows off the table. "