each memory that replays holds a different effect on any given day . . . some of them still contain a glimmer of fondness, but there aren’t many like that left. most of the troubled thoughts that swirl are consequences of survival, once you’ve held onto life that isn’t where the story ends ( it’s where it starts . . . you make it through the battle, now deal with what you did during it ). hands shake but it’s not from the chill that rattles her bones as she leans against the stone ledge, watching cars pass by from the roof of a building that contained the closest thing to home that she’s ever known. the day had been fine . . . but it took one moment, the way a stranger’s voice sounded all too familiar that sent her tumbling from solid ground & panic rising in her throat. becky was the face that weighed the heaviest when the fog settled & captured her sanity, the blood that she couldn’t scrub clean . . . that life was taken with her own hands & grace wasn’t sure there was forgiveness for that ( whether it had been done out of survival or not . . . there was a moment she could have stopped, when bone crunched the first time, but she hadn’t until alex came into view ). mindlessly chews on bitten down nails, an awful habit to add to the list she carried. unsure of how much time had passed before he sought her out ( a child’s game only he could win ). knows he means it, that somehow the broken & mangled jigsaw pieces that remained of them fit together in some way, but it wasn’t that simple. his prior life haunted him . . . but with all that he had done, this was his mother & no amount of fucking goat sacrifice made could equate to what she had managed to do in one night. how could she talk about that with him ? share the burden when it was his own mother’s demise. glancing over at him, taking the time to study his features in the shadows nightfall gifted him, noting how well he was suited for the darkness. there was a beauty in it she figured, someone with a heart like his blossoming with the stars shining behind him. ❝ i don’t need . . . ❞ wanted to say help, but they both knew the lie that intertwined with the tossed away sentiment. eyes drifting back to the skyline in front of her, a scuff visible in the icy air but it carries the tune of sad laughter, hinges barely held onto their rightful brackets. ❝ can we just, not fucking do this right now, daniel ? please. ❞
&. @seekher prompted: “ being strong doesn’t mean never asking for help or admitting you’re in pain. ”
