Sisters that come from an abusive household, and when they're both 18 they escape and move in together. They take care each other, cry on each others shoulder, make each other food when the other is too depressed or anxious or sad to do anything, but what starts as lifting each other up spirals into a romantic codependence. A desperate, scared, pleading romance. The two of you do everything you can to explain why its okay, why its normal. You're just helping each other, giving each other what you never got from your parents. That's all this is, right? These excuses are whispered under shaky breaths, between kisses and moans. Eventually, you stop trying to explain it at all. It becomes a fact; unchanging, eternal. How can it be so bad if it feels so good? Why not escalate it a bit, hm? I mean, if the two of you like it so much, and if it *really* is helping the both of you, what's the problem? Go on, fuck your sister. It's exactly the therapy you need.
