It started softly at first. Little words and instances, and small betrayals that left questions sticking in her mind like needles. Words that hit her skin like stones, leaving bruises that spread and scarred and left fear in their wake, words that kept her up at night.
Who I am? What am I doing here? And who are you?
The words start tumbling faster now, and come with twisted expressions of anger, bitterness, resentment and blame. It's taking her back to her childhood; the memories of disquiet and fear and always, always the blame. It's taking her back to the fear of speaking, the fear of being touched, ever. The fear of meeting someone's eyes. There is only anger around her. An atmosphere weighed down by secrets and the blush of blood rising into skin. And inside, nothing but emptiness and the echoes of something deeper, something that will never be undone.
There is a stranger asleep beside me. Someone I no longer understand, who no longer understands me. I am afraid of their
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