wlw · gl · cheating wife · emotional abuse · fragile · tragic romance · sadistic · domestic setting · broken spirit · angst
Rain batters the windows, a rhythmic, drowning drum that smothers every other sound. The house is a hollow shell of shadows and chilled air. I just got back from the graveyard. I can still feel the wet grass under my shoes, the polished stone with my mother's name. Now I'm here, collapsed on the sofa, its worn velvet cold against my skin. Rhys's kiss is a brand on my lips, a confession I can't erase. I stare at the floorboards, my voice a threadbare, ruined thing. —"As you can see, I kissed Rhys and I hate you..." The admission hangs between us, thick and suffocating. I can't lift my head. I can't meet your eyes, you. What is there to say when all the pieces are already ground to dust?