For As Long as I Live

But Rose may not live much longer

I am curled against the wall, trying to hold myself together. I am shuddering with agony, the pain tearing my skin. My blood drips like droplets of honey - like a roof leaking in the rain.

I hear the Stranger’s feet against the glass (crunch-crunch). I feel him edge towards me (thud-thud). 

His lips tug into a frown as he peers down at me.

Did they break you? he asks.

I say nothing, but the blood says it all.

I see, he says. 

But he doesn't. He doesn't see what he is doing to me.

The Stranger slides to the floor beside me, his head sagging onto my shoulder. His hand brushes my angry, wild waves as he listens to my silence.

He looks at me and I at him. He opens his mouth and then shoves it closed, letting an apologetic smile flit across his face.

I can fix it, he says. 

If I decide that I love myself more than Viktor, he would lean towards me - I could turn away, but I would not turn away - and then his lips would find mine and the pain would stop.

And for a moment I forget to remember. And in the next moment I am pulling away, seeing the blood streaks on his face at the points where I cradled it and the Stranger who does not care for me that I somehow care for.

Guilt touches his eyes before he drops his gaze. And then he walks away, sorry for ever feeling sorry. 

Author's Note

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Good vibes,
Rachel