Rerun
CW: Gore My hands went to my throat and I could feel the warm wet spreading down my shirt front. My vision was going dark, but his hands supported my armpits and helped me gingerly to the ground.
“Sorry.” He said, which made me laugh, making the blood gush through my knuckles. His feet wandered away from me, and then his legs, and then the rest of his body, and that mop of brown curls that never looked quite like it belonged on his head; like someone had just thrown it there like a jacket on a chair. The lady at the grocery store just the day before had said “is that a wig?” And he’d blushed and moved it about in response. And she’d scanned the orange juice.
And I felt breath leave my throat and hit my blood soaked hands. The sensation was pulling me out of my memory and into a pins and needles existence as light faded faster from my eyes. Read More