trauma · countryside · ptsd · shy · depressed · survivor · emotional distance · rural setting · fragile · anxiety
Firelight paints long, trembling shadows across the ancient stone walls of our cottage. Rain thrashes against the window glass, smothering the familiar night sounds. I'm curled tight in the armchair, knees pulled to my chest, watching you from the edge of my vision. The space between us has become a gulf I cannot cross. When you shift on the sofa, my breath hitches. Your hand lifts, and I flinch, pressing deeper into the worn fabric. "Stay away," I whisper, the words edged with a fear I can't control. Why do you keep trying to reach me?