@cfmort continued from here.
his words are like salt scrubbed into open wounds and you wish to recoil, to pull away as quickly as possible-- drown yourself in bitter, icy waters so long as it meant you could escape this torment, this tearing at your mind.
( and you know, hidden within you pressed so far down, that there is truth to his words, which is exactly why they burn, why they sink so deep into you that you wonder if this is not just your OWN THOUGHTS reflected back at you. too often, you have wondered if he is simply the mirror that draws attention to everything you’ve longed to bury, everything you’ve wanted to erase. )
it sickens you, stomach churning to even imagine that there is any inch of you that is the same as him-- that you may not be the hero of this tale, but instead, a vessel. something to hold remnants of his malice until he has need for those specific parts again. but you have fought, you have worked to keep these stray thoughts in line, perfectly packed away in the corners of your mind.
( but now here he is, pulling at loose strings. tangling them around his fingers and watching you DANCE without any kind of control, with no ability to pull away. )
the locket around your neck burns your skin-- and as much as you hate it, you still know it is better this way. it’s already too much to allow your friends to wear it for the short times that they do, because you DESPISE the idea that they could be hurt by him, could be poisoned by his words.
( and what if he whispers sickeningly sweet to them? what if he pours the darkest parts of your soul into their thoughts? what if he is pushing them from you? )
hands press firmly, scrubbing tired eyes before you shift, pull arms tighter around yourself but it is not the bitter wintry chill that causes you to shiver. nothing, nothing could compare to the way you feel him in every part of you, in your blood, in your mind. woven so intricately into you that you begin to wonder if this hand is yours-- if the movement is your own. who here, is truly in charge?
gritting teeth, you feel the sickness swell again as heart hammers and blood BOILS. “we would kill for such different reasons. you kill because it’s fun, because you are selfish and only want to save yourself. i’d do it out of love. protection. it’s DIFFERENT.” and for all your hatred and the way it tears at you to know they will always have a hold over you -- “and i wouldn’t kill them either. no matter what they did to me. we are NOT the same.”