untitled.

My hands are tied. Shaky hands are on mine. 

A master yells something to another.

My mother screams, letting go of my hands as they drag her out.

A shot, followed by a gurgling sound,

A kiss on my hand, drags me out of my daze.

I smile, looking into Adrian’s big, concerned eyes. 

“Lise, you know I don’t like it when you do that.” 

I pull him close, trying to kiss his worry away, having forgotten we’re out in public. This tactic, I have used for a while. I don’t like to talk about my flashbacks. They scare me.

Adrian draw away.

“I thought you were getting better.” He says, looking down at his hands. 

I feel nausea curling up inside me (God, I hate my sensitive stomach), and I, too, fix my gaze on his wonderful hands. Why does he know me so damn well when I know almost nothing about him?

“Hey,” I bring a hand to his ear, ignoring the nagging feeling of anxiety inside. “I am.” I pull up my sleeve, showing him my slave-bracelet. “See, I don’t have to give nearly as much blood any longer.”

“You know that is not what I am concerned about, Elizabeth.” My hand falls to my side. 

“Adrian,” I say, catching his gaze. “Mental healing takes time.”  

Author's Note

It's really weird writing again, but I really have missed it very much.