#self paragraph

[keremdogulu]

Drabble.

Crushed red velvet dripped decedance in the V.I.P lounge; a monument that looked like hell reincarnated;  luxury and lavish yet something sinister called from the depths within. Kerem felt it the second he stepped foot inside. His own personal hell, it seemed to scream within but he quickly fashioned himself into a man of indifference. The sounds of Moonlight Serenade by Glen Miller travelled from the main bar, slowly bringing the crystal whiskey glass to his lips. 

A bitter taste lingered on tongue. Kerem had an unrelenting distain for the Rutherford’s. It boiled and curdled deep within the pit of his stomach only to remind him that the reason he was here was not for pleasure, fortunately he was self aware enough to not have let it slip from his mind. Melissa Lin had caused ripples of doubt within the Turks this year. Would they ever step out of the looming shadow that told them they were forever shackled? Her name caused shudders to run a riot in his body. Spectre was dead, Ayaz shot at the hand of his girlfriend and now there undoubetly a target on her head.

Kerem had a job. To protect his people. But he had a job to keep the woman he loved alive. He was aware that he might have to bargain something away to make that happen. A sacrafice he wasn’t sure he could make, but he’d do it. He’d lost Nevra, he couldn’t lose her too. 

So when he’d asked Lara fucking Rutherford to meet, he couldn’t deny that it hadn’t come with reservations from both sides. She wasn’t some common muck from lowly Haringey or a hench man for the Rutherford’s. She was the Rutherford. Future boss and he was keenly aware that things were balancing on a tipping scale, none of which were in his favour. 

So when he stood his face paled at the woman coming towards him. 

It was now or never. 

And he only prayed that he walked away from this meeting alive. 

[mrofontaine]

Self Paragraph. Contemplation.

Contemplation.

The word on its own had such a large comprehension, how one could decide to even when they didn't fully understand it themselves, how each moment he took was one step closer to deciding the fate of the people he cared for. He was a bodyguard, blessed and cursed with the gift of protecting those around him and yet, those decisions had come down to such menial things in the past, watching others die as he decided who to throw himself in front of. Of course, he’d always choose Delphine, but if she wasn’t around; he had to protect those that were important. He’d made mistakes in the past, had allowed his judgement to be clouded by his emotions. 

Regardless, people still died. Shouldn't there have been some kind of big grandeur moment that got him here? A single moment of clarity that allowed him to really understand the decisions he had to make under pressure. The lives he’d had to forfit in the past.

Not a single mistake. One moment of madness, an accident. It was that sick churning in his gut that reminded him of when he was a youngling, one of Evelyns. They were different, and he happened to be close to the woman. That had never done him favours. People liked to talk when they saw someone such as himself climb to higher positions. 

But was this the job he wanted in the organization anymore? Maybe that death had seeped into his own blood, watching people constantly die had an effect. And now, deep within him, he wondered if he should bring death.

If he was the man that could do the unthinkable. Watch the lights go out.

With shaking hands, he reaches up to shift the blonde locks from his vision; before him, an old oak table with years of wear and tare etched into the surface, items scattered, a cigarette burning in the ashtray with smoke billowing around him, sunlight gleaming through, threatening to blind him as the afternoon grew later. And their photos; two smiling women who took his breath away every time he walked into a room. One, his mother, her aging lines and graying hair, and then the other was Evelyn; a photo of them when he’d passed his training. One of the most proud moments he’d ever had in his life.

Where he hadn’t felt worthless. 

Snapping his head away, peaking up to the corner of the room, Olivier watched with memorized eyes as the smoke danced into perfect swirls, creating a piece of art he'd never really taken the time to appreciate before. 

He couldn't do this, he thought.

''Forgive me.'' The words were simple, but begging; he knew that the bible that lay on the other side of the room held no justice for what he was about to do. The life he was going to ask to have. He wasn’t even sure if they’d allow him too, if they’d see him as too weak. Useless. No god would bring him into their heaven. Hell would wait for him. In reaching a decision in the coming moments, Olivier knew that one of two things would follow. He would betray his morals, to save a part of himself he hadn’t even known exsisted until recently.

Was this evil? Real evil? He'd never wanted to play god before, and yet, here he stood with what felt like the weight of the world on his shoulders and more power than he'd ever wanted. Picking up the pen in hand, the paper lay blank with nothing but the faint dull grey lines that shot from one side of the paper to the other, just begging for words to spill from the ink. But nothing seemed to come, just silence.

Defeaning.

It wouldn't be long before that day came, destroying and pulling his life apart. Before he let it consume him whole. He was that kind of person, he became consumed with the things in his life. As he had with Lisette, and briefly those twinkling feelings he’d felt for another, and would never speak of. Olivier Fontaine wanted to be of assistance, and he knew it was in everyone’s best interest if he followed through with this. 

So he penned the letter.

It was a request for a meeting. To speak to those in the French Organization that would allow him to bring his case forward, to shift out of his position and see if he had what it takes. It was a thought at this moment, until he heard back. But it was a thought he hoped would come to fruition. 

Scratching the gruff of his beard, sat in that chair by the window; there were so many questions that swirled through his mind, infecting his thought process. 

It seemed impossible. The ticking of the clock only seemed to goad him more.

''What do I do.'' He muttered to himself, rubbing harshly at this face. Three deep breaths.

One.

Two.

Three.

And with that he wrote the letter, pen in hand. Tomorrow, he told himself, tomorrow he’d sent it.

[amescastaignede]

Self Para - Quiet, now.

‘' --- Do you want this?’’  

Her mother held out an old t-shirt, one she’d often stolen in her teenage years, oversized and tattered, it had once drowned her petite frame; and while they’d been a comfortable family, they’d never had extreme wealth --- so the Hilfiger sign that they’d found in a second-hand shop in Camden had been seen as an accomplishment and one she’d worn with pride. 

(When Mathias wasn’t moaning that she stole it all the time.)

But it’d been his.

The question sounded absurd, that they’d be going through his things like he was no longer walking this planet. That their parents were so brutally hurt that they were acting in such a way. In one breath Amélie understood, it was a process of emotions. However, on the other there was a fury inside of her for how they were handling this.

‘’He isn’t dead.’’ She managed to grind out under whispered breath, arms tugging tighter around her. She hadn’t yet accepted the fact that Mathias had walked away from them, and forgotten her like she was nothing.  

She felt like a ghost in his world, and he in hers.  

‘‘He isn’t here, either.’‘ Her mothers words were not harsh but dripped with endless heart break. Even Amélie couldn’t begin to imagine what it felt like for her, losing a child who was still alive but took no time to pretend that they even existed. Like they’d done him wrong.

All their parents had ever tried to do was love and support them. 

However, even as Amélie lifted her gaze to her mothers aging face, she felt a coldness there. Maybe she expected her to do the same, up and fly the coup just like Mathias. So with a sigh, she held her hand out. ‘’Call it my Christmas present..’’ Amélie murmured, small and meek.

Her mother only half smiled back, once again holding out the shirt. 

THREE HOURS LATER. 

This was her Christmas day with her family, six days before actual Christmas. She’d tried to get out of this but it’d been an insistence from her mother and father that she had to leave her house sometime. However, she’d took off to her room sliding into that over sized shirt, while laying across her bed as she’d done once upon a time when she’d lived at home. 

Then her phone rang.

Heart hammering against her chest she saw the name, Mathias.

For a moment she just stared with complete panic. 

however, she’d be sorely disappointed to find when she answered it was nothing but his breath. Had he called her by mistake? Had he wanted to hear her voice? Did he miss her just as much as she missed him? Or was it nothing. 

‘‘The past is truly a wonderful thing. why does anyone ever choose to leave it?’’ Amélie managed to say, speaking from her heart.

And then the phone went dead. 

[msmelissalin]

SELF PARA: The  Protégé LOCATION: BENJAMIN'S SECOND APARTMENT.  TIMESTAMP: 24.04.2022

About: This follows a conversation between Melissa and her protégé, Benjamin Vox (NPC). - apologies as this got very long. 

The week had been long. Almost never-ending, when she'd finally walked out of the main headquarters a little after seven pm. The evening skies were staying lighter now that the summer only waited around the corner, ready to douse the population in a typical British summer of six days of blistering sun light before it disappeared for the rest of the year. It'd always been her favorite season, not having to worry about the dresses she wore, more often than not, more vibrant and a compliment to her skin tone. And of course, with the heat brought functions, and that meant more games for her to play.

Melissa Lin loved games. The games of politics being a particular one she'd never grown bored with. Even if her parents had shoved it down her throat for her entire life before, she'd thought better to leave them in the dust. Thinking about it, that life seemed to be something so far in the past that cobwebs had formed on her mind. When her phone had buzzed, stopping her in her path, Benjamin's name lit up the screen.

Interesting. 

''Good evening Benjamin, what has you calling me?'' She stated. The edge of her business voice was still in full force, and she felt like could hear the cringe in his voice for making that call the second she'd answered.

''I was wondering if you wanted to come over and talk about those plans we discussed this morning? If you're calling it a night though, there is no need to worry,'' He responded, which instantly had Melissa checking her watch.

''I'll swing by before I head home.''

She didn't bother to give him time to answer. Silently ending the call and slipping into the car that was waiting for her outside, she offered a tight lipped nod to her driver, Fred, who knew better than to speak unless spoken to. He'd learnt the hard way, Melissa practically chewing him out one morning for interrupting her 'thinking'. 

He'd never done it again. 

Within an hour, the business discussions had sauntered to a halt, while Melissa sat with her back against the hard wall, seated on a chair, staring out into the expanse of the evening sky, the stars busy above glittering and dancing; it was a clear night. She was on the outskirts of London, sat on a balcony overlooking a small expanse of land that belonged to her protégé and friend.

The last word seemed like an oddity. 

Melissa had friends, a few names coming to mind, but a few within her work life itself. She kept most of those bonds strained and at least an arm's length away. It was easier to see who might come to stab her in the back. That way she was always ready to stab them right back, or get their first; which ever was deemed the best or most viable option. But her thoughts were cut off. 

''Can I ask you a question, Melissa?'' Benjamin countered mid conversation, cutting her a glance from where he sat beside her. He quickly returned his gaze to the night sky. There was something that was different about Melissa when she sat with him, compared to how the people in her life saw her; she was more gentle? If that was even a possibility for a woman whose heart was made of ice. Everything she did had a purpose, an accomplishment awaiting at the end of any trials she may have to endure. But Benjamin? There was something she'd always connected with from the first moment she'd set eyes upon him.

She'd known he was different. Like her. 

''Go ahead...'' She said with a raised brow, her eyes narrowed, but still not looking at him. But he seemed lost for words, fumbling. It was something she'd never seen of Benjamin before, a boy--- man, she corrected, who was as hard faced and sly as she. Looking him over with concern, she wondered if something was wrong, or if there was still a fear speaking in her presence. She understood it, because many people gave her that look.

Like she was a monster waiting for dinner. 

''You know, Benjamin---'' Melissa began, but stopped, a small smile gracing her lips. ''Life is fragile, and there are moments where we're meant to stand and observe, but sometimes we're meant to seize the moment. Stand up and take what is yours, what you rightfully deserve --- so ask me now, or don't bother asking at all'' With that it died on her lips, humming with a chuckle. 

''Why did you pick me?'' Benjamin countered with furrowed brows, as if mulling over her words and the leap he'd just taken. It was a question that had been on his mind for sometime. He was aware of his talents. The boy was no fool. But his brothers, whom were older, had been far more experienced and wiser. Yet, one of the most feared within the organization. The fucking second had decided he was worthy enough of being her protege. He needed to know, the question burning its way to the surface almost every time he was in her presence. 

As soon as he'd asked it, there was a regret. He was still learning the balance of their relationship, their working bond. He feared stepping over the line, even if the man was practically fearless in almost every other pursuit. 

''You reminded me of someone I used to know'' She said simply. He wasn't sure if he should continue the topic, but seized the moment to learn what he could. 

''Who?'' He asked with intrigue.

''Partly me, partly my ex-husband, Johnathan.'' The last name caused a grimace to appear on her face, which he clocked. He'd heard about the pair's tenuous relationship, often excusing himself without a word when Melissa seemed to be frustrated over something to do with the pair. It wasn't his place, and he would not push. 

Melissa cast him a glance finally. He looked dumbfounded, taking in the information that she'd freely shared with him. Melissa cocked her head to the side, her lips slipping into that primal feline smile. She forgot his age sometimes, how easy it was to get under his skin and something she made a note of getting him out of as soon as possible. She needed him shaped and ready should she ever decide it was time.

Time for that adventure. She could imagine him with her. Should it ever arrive? Should she ever decide she was ready? 

''I don't mean to be rude---'' He began, but Melissa quickly cut him off.

''Usually when people start with that sentence, it means they're going to be rude.'' She arched a brow, but the smile still danced upon her crimson painted lips. 

Benjamin laughed, shaking his head. 

''I was going to ask how? Why?'' He seemed confused by her answer. 

Melissa thought about it for a moment, lining each phrase before she began. She wanted him to understand his potential, and by doing so, he may open himself up to further growth, which was exactly why she'd taken him on. So she hummed under her breath, taking a slow sip of the champagne she'd brought for them to share. 

''You can be cold like me, and ruthlessly brutal, like Johnathan. You're also extremely well adverse in social manners, etiquette, politics and can flirt your way in and out of everything. I've seen you do it with such ease, I thought it almost worrying.'' Melissa Lin laughed so lightly, it would have been missed if Benjamin hadn't been looking directly at her. ''But you're chaotic, you thrive to get the job done and sometimes you make decisions that benefit what you need from the situation, and not the overall mission --- to me, that's the Johnathan in you. That brutality hasn't failed you yet, you've honed it...but there is still work to be done'' Melissa pursed her lips as worry flickered in his baby blue eyes. ''It's not a bad thing entirely. People often refer to me as emotionless, detached, the list goes on. I am all of those things, and I accept that. I live with that. Because those choices and actions I've made have kept me alive. And I have no intention of ever falling below that line.''

Or staying here. Although she didn't voice that opinion aloud.

''And the thing is Benjamin, you have to be all of those things without reprieve. Most of the time you will not be rewarded, a lot of the things you will do will be under the radar and only you and I will know of the cost and sacrifices you will have to make. But I will make sure your life is purposeful, filled with the potential to go where others can only dream.'' She felt like she was selling a dream to him, but she knew he'd make it. Like she had, so she raise her glass to him, which he mirrored instantly. 

''I'm thankful that it was me,'' Benjamin added with that sly smile, the one he reserved for work, wooing their clients into submission, and Melissa returned it right back.

''Don't worry, kid, I'm going to make you very rich. You can thank me then.''

[mattiejacobz]

Drown | Self Paragraph

It started how it always did; in darkness. Then, slowly as if it were a game struggling to load, little pixels of the world fell into place and he was immersed in the dream. Standing on the bridge - waiting. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a dream that didn’t take place here, and they happened so often that, at least for now, he subconciously knew that this wasn’t real. Yet, there was a chill in the air, and the trees spoke to one another through the wind. His lips were chapped and there was something, something cold, dripping down his neck from his ear.  A hand slowly investigated the sensation, and as he felt the warm liquid the grip he had on reality - or lack thereof - disappeared. His hand began to shake as he brought it into his eyeline, his breathing was not too far behind when he saw the blood. 

Then, as if someone had pressed rewind on the VHS, the dream shifted and he was in the back of his family car. His parents were up front, arguing about this, that, and the other. He loved his parents, but they were both hotheads and as passionately as they loved, they fought hard. Mattie could only hear some parts of the conversation; the rest was muffled, as if it were happening behind closed doors. You’ve had more than the limit! His mother shouted. I’m fine! I had one extra beer - it’s nothing! His father would retaliate. What if we get pulled over? You can’t lose your license, how would Mattie get to school - no he will not take that damn bus! 

Despite being a nice kid, junior high was not exactly a walk in the park for him. He was a late bloomer, a short, stumpy, kid who was great at math - the perfect target for the 11/12 year old jocks-to-be. His mother was terrified of the back-of-the-bus bullying, so he’d been dropped off and picked up ever since someone ripped up his calculus homework back in 3rd grade.

The argument would carry on until they reached the bridge. Until they hit the ice. Until his father lost control. Until they smashed into the barrier and the car balanced one half off the edge. He’d hit his head against the window and the headrest in front of him during the crash. He felt sick. Dizzy. There was a ringing in his ear, one that he would discover will never go away. 

Then, everything kind of came to a stop, as if the person watching had pressed the pause button to go make some more popcorn. They were suspended over one of the biggest drops over one of the most most dangerous rivers in West Virginia. Everything was silent, except for a voice that sounded like his Mother’s - but she wasn’t talking. She wasn’t... She wasn’t even there. There was a hole in the front windscreen - she had already gone, down into the river. 

We’ll always be with you. Mattie, we never wanted this life for you. That money we had saved... It was for college. It was to get you out of this small town life. You’re meant for so much more than this.

Tears were falling down his cheeks, but he couldn’t even feel them, he just knew it was happening. His head was shaking vicously - this couldn’t be happening - it was going to be okay. He tried to yell, tried to scream at his father to reverse the car - to climb to the back so the car wouldn’t tip over - but nothing came out. 

Then his father turned around, his face was all bloody and he could barely open one of his eyes. The airbag hadn’t deployed properly, and he’d smashed his face up against the steering wheel. He smiled.

It’s going to be okay Mattie, okay? It’s going to be okay - you don’t need to be scared. Don’t be scared Mattie boy, you hear me son? You stay strong, you - you look after yourself. Now, be a good boy - open your door, Mattie. Jump out - get out of here Mattie, right now. I love you, son. Get out - get out Mattie! 

He fumbled at the door handle until the door finally swung open and he threw himself out onto the cold concreate and as he did the car began to tilt forwards, over the edge. NO, NO, NO! He’d yell, though nothing would come out. He pulled himself up and clamered at the side of the car as if he, an 11 year old boy, had the strength of Superman - as if he could be the superheroes he watched every Saturday night. But he wasn’t a superhero. He was just a boy. 

Everything went into slowmo - and Mattie clung to the broken metal bars and watched as the car plummeted to the water. Don’t be scared Mattie boy. We never wanted this life for you. Get you out of this small town. Don’t be scared. Don’t be scared. Don’t be scared. The voice of his parents played over and over and over in his head until the car finally crashed into the water and there was a split second of darkness.

He woke up gasping for air - a silent scream as he clung onto his chest that rose and fell as if he’d just run a marathon. He was covered in sweat. He was shaking. He felt like he was going to throw up but he swallowed and tightly shut his eyes. The sound of his parents words followed him into the real world - don’t be scared. Then, he opened his eyes and turned on the bedside lamp, swinging his body around so he perched on the edge of the bed. He hung his head and sighed. Then, he went to grab the bottle of water and his eyes locked onto the flyer that was being used as a coaster; PANIC IS BACK.

Get you out of this small town life. 

Don’t be scared.

Mattie took a sip of his water and slicked his hair back and then... He picked up the flyer. 

[duskyreflections]

Poetry will save me when people can’t.

Poetry will save me when people can’t.                                     

It is difficult to understand when even said. Let my heart be shattered and my soul left alone to survive. Poetry heals me even I am broken, music bonds me back. I am like poetry; everyone wants it but not many can understand and appreciate it. I go on the road of my own. Let me be intense, deep, filled with emotions yet cold at the same time, pain decorated with love. Not forceful but broken with love.

[hardtimeshar]

my stand on relationships of teenagers

Relationships are primarily social constructs that in turn generate emotional hormones in the brain that causes people to be in the state "love" which affects decision making and the emotional state of someone (as well as other beliefs if it comes to such a point).      

Because teenagers are in the prime time of releasing hormones, confusing "love" and "infatuation" with one another, and primarily not having enough experience to make proper judgements but enough cockiness to rule logic out of a situation - teenagers are prone to horrible emotional states like breakdowns, decide on implausible chances and the like.

Teenagers should be taught and disciplined of the ways a "relationship" works especially in the age they are right now, if teenagers gain enugh maturity to understand the consequences, and face the limits and events of a relationship - then yes, teenagers are allowed to have relationships.

It is advised that such relationships would be mainly for a youth's motivation to work better in life - not a solution to existing problems. If teenagers would take it upon themselve this way, not blame themselves, and have a beter mindset of judging the why's, misfortunes, and joys of a bond, then having a relationship at a young age is beneficial for such an individual.

[queenmarissa]

I Still Need You | Self Paragraph

Marissa got the call from the hospital in the early hours of the morning. She’d picked up the phone, still half asleep and with what the other person was saying she was sure she was still dreaming. Nicola had had an accident? Fallen off the side of the ship? There’s no fucking way. Was her first thought as she rolled her eyes, assuming this was just some stupid pap, or some old business partner she’d crossed back in the day trying to mess with her. But, then she woke up some more and she realised that the person she was speaking to had an Italian accent, that there was real concern in his voice... Then her heart started slamming against her chest and she bolted upright, shaking her head. 

“Wait-- Start again, Nic is where?”

This wasn’t some prank. She looked across the bed; Nic wasn’t there. Riss swallowed thickly before listening to more of what the Doctor said... She was okay, but she was in a coma. What part of fucking okay was a coma, the retired woman thought as she propped the phone between her ear and shoulder and gently woke Cleo up and told her what was happening too. 

“I’ll be there shortly.”

Then she hung up the phone and... Went silent. Quietly, she got out of bed and got dressed. She pulled on one of Nic’s shirts over the top of her own and threw some extra clothes into a bag before grabbing her coat and keys. All without saying a word. Everything felt like it was going in slow motion. Everything felt like it was speeding past her. She felt everything and nothing all at once and she felt like she was about to go into a panic attack. But, at the same time, she was unnervingly calm. 

“I’ll go and see what she’s like-- see if it’s... If it’s somewhere Dela could cope with, I’ll call you in a bit...” Riss sniffed up and nodded a little before forcing a bit of a smile. “She’ll be okay.”. Who was she trying to convince with that?

The car ride from the ship, through to the hospital was silent. There seemed to be no-one on the roads at all, like she was still in some weird dream. Her mind just kept going over this. Her gut knew something was off here. Nicola wouldn’t just fall off the side of the ship, no matter how much she had had to drink. Even if she had slipped and almost fallen, she was quick and strong and smart enough to grip onto the side of the railings and pull herself back up again. 

What if she’d drowned?

Riss shook that thought out of her head. Or, at least, she tried to. 

What if she’d died?

What if she does?

The front of the car hit the wall at the back of the parking spot she’d swung into, setting the airbag and alarms off. “FUCK!” Riss yelled as she batted the airbag down away from her face, grabbing the keys and stabbing it to deflate it as her breathing got heavy and uncontrolled. How many times was she going to have to visit her loved ones in hosptial? How many fucking times was she going to almost lose them? This was her, right? This was her fault. Her fucking curse.

She hadn’t realised she was crying until security tapped his flashlight on the window of the car and she jumped back into reality. Nodding, she said she was fine, that she just hit the gas a little too much. He left. Riss ran her hand down her face and took a few deep breaths. Calm the fuck down... Breathe.

Grabbing her bag, she got out of the car. Didn’t bother to lock it; who was going to steal a totalled ride, even if it was an Aston Martin? Another breath and she walked through into the hospital, followed the signs to the intensive care unit and then asked the clerk where Nic was. She was lead to her room and met her Doctor first before they let her go into the room. He caught her up with what had happened. Told her that she was really just sleeping, that her body had shut down to rest and that, as long as she woke up again, she would be alright. 

As long as she woke up. 

“Just let me see her...”

They opened the doors and there she was. It took her breath away like this was the first time she’d ever seen her, or the last. Slowly, she crossed the room and this time she was perfectly aware of the tears that flooded down her cheeks. 

“Nic...?” She hoped. God, she hoped that that was all it took. Just, her calling out her name. That she’d see some kind of movement, or that she’d open her eyes or cough or something. But, instead the only thing that happened was the door slid shut behind her and she jumped at the sound. Then, it was just the beeping and whirling of the machines. That, and her thoughts. 

Riss pulled a chair up to the side of the bed, sniffling a little as she swallowed thickly and tried to calm down. She took Nic’s hand in both of hers. “I’m sorry...” She practically whispered as she brought the hand to her lips and kissed her softly. “I’m here, Nic... I-- I’m so confused... What happened? What fucking happened, baby?” Marissa cried quietly, forehead pressed against their hands as if she were praying. “Wake up, Nicky. Please wake up...” She gasped for a breath as she finally looked up at her sleeping partners’ face. 

“I hope you’re-- you’re not in pain... Fuck-- god fucking damnit, Nic...” Riss moved one of her hands to her cheek, softly running her thumb over her cheek before gently kissing her forehead and then her lips. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m-- I’m not leaving... I’m not leaving you, I-- I can’t... I can’t do this shit without you, Nicola... I-- I still... I still need you... I’m not ready to not have you.” She cried, gasping for breaths as she dropped her forehead onto Nic’s shoulder. 

“I still need you... I’m sorry I didn’t-- I’m sorry I wasn’t there... I didn’t-- I didn’t hear you get out of bed, I should have... I should have seen it... I-- I shouldn’t have been sleeping, I’m sorry baby... I’m sorry...” Riss held onto her hand a little tighter as her tears wet the sheets over Nic. How many times would she have to do this? How many times was she going to have to come to a hosptial to see the people she loved like this? 

She remembered when Delilah went into her coma, after she’d cracked her head open on the steps in Times Square. She remembered that feeling in her chest when she woke up, when she asked Marissa to come up on the bed too. When she held her. That was... One of the first times that Delilah had ever asked for her. One of the very few times she’d seen the other be vulnerable. Then, a few months later when Marissa had been ill and had to go to hospital... The blonde wasn’t anywhere to be seen. If it hadn’t been for Hayden; she would have been alone there.

When she thought about it, there wasn’t a single person that she loved that hadn’t been hurt badly. That she hasn’t, at some point, almost lost. Except Cleo and Cordelia... But... Was that just a matter of time? Everyone that she dared to love got hurt and... The only connection between all of them was her, right? Marissa had believed that she was cursed for a long, long time. Lately, she’d thought that maybe it was just the world holding her away from love because it knew that she wasn’t destined for it with anyone other than Nicola and Cleo. But... First the attack in the penthouse, then that fucking carnival, now this?

What even was this? Nicola was not a clumsy person. This wasn’t... This wasn’t an accident, but-- that meant who? Who did this? 

Her stomach dropped as she suddenly saw the image of Delilah smirking. She wouldn’t... She was mean, and-- she wouldn’t... Marissa shook her head and tried to take a deep breath as she sniffed up and looked back up to Nicola. “What happened, baby?” She muttered against her arm as she scanned every single detail of her face. “I love you... I love you, Nic...” Riss leant up and kissed her again, closing her eyes and hoping, wishing, praying that she’d feel the older blonde kiss her back but... Nothing.

The breath caught in the back of her throat as everything errupted all at once. She let out a excruciating cry as her heart more or less exploded. Rivers of tears streamed down her cheeks as her hands cupped Nicola’s. Her forehead resting against the blonde’s. “Wake up... Wake up, please-- please, Nic.. I-I...” She gasped for a breath. 

“I still need you...”