Of course he would act surprised ; such words didn’t often cross the barriers of her lips, let alone in his presence, which was enough to stir in her the need to be contradictory to everything he said, and never to admit defeat. And she never did, never would have before, had he hold a knife to her throat. The pride with which she walked at all time never left her sides, and she would be caught dead before admitting her wrongdoing. So perhaps Hell had indeed frozen over, like he seemed to suggest, mocking tone she knew all too well and to whom she had learned to resist.
A few months before it would have provoked her into anger, no doubt. Now she could just as well ignore it ; and she would have to, if she was to continue the declaration for which she had come. The first words had been enough of throat-burners already, she needed to muster even more resilience to pronounce the following ones.
She would have preferred to be able to go on without saying them, keeping their little game going as if nothing had changed — but everything had changed. Words of some meanings had slipped from his mouth, and she had laughed at him. She had laughed because she knew of no other answer she could have given him at that time ; it was not nothing, what she felt, but it held no such grandeurs as his words implied. Thus the laugh, the mockery ( ‘I would never feel that way for you’ ) and the protection she thought she had wrapped around her as not to feel suddenly entrapped, her own game playing against her.
But the words were burning her, dying to be said, to be professed. She was admitting defeat, and it killed her as much as those consuming feelings were. ❛ I was wrong when I said I would never love you ❜ The sentence was now complete, a blind shot in the dark. Was it his turn to laugh, now ?? Would he put her down like she had him ??
❛ because I do —— you fucking bastard. ❜
*✧ ✰ ｡* @fatheredeclaration | cont’d from here
