@malpractitioned Still, she smiles like a good girl, like a doll, like sheโs touched โ and perhaps she is; she does love him, after all.*
i think you mean it, you know.
if i wish to be married, youโll marry me.
@malpractitioned If she resents him for this, she doesnโt say; but there are times, times like this, where a sick sense of pleasure settles itself deep inside the very nerves of her body, derived solely from the expression on his face; she has unnerved him, and it feels good.
@malpractitioned โ pressing on a freshly bloomed bruise. It feels like a sting, a wince. A wilted bouquet of flowers in an empty room.*
would you marry me, if i asked you to?
would you chase me down if i ran away?
@malpractitioned *A sigh heaves her chest, escapes like a death rattle; thereโs a finality to it, an acceptance she had made peace with a long time ago, in another life, but one which has startled to existence anew โ this is how they are. One cannot be without the other.
It feels like โ-
@malpractitioned *There is attempted rigidity on her part; she steels her body, her jaw, her heart like an invisible armour; but then he touches her, and the distinct downward turn of her mouth begins to give, to tremble, and the weight of loving him sits heavy, so heavy, on her chest.*
@malpractitioned She looks like a child. She looks like something impossibly, ineffably fragile.*
find someone else.
you go and find someone else.
clean and fresh and pretty.
make your heir. do as you wish.
see how long they can stand you.
@malpractitioned But these are the thoughts of a damaged woman, and there is a small part of her crying, weeping, to save a piece of herself, a piece he cannot touch; so she banishes them, swallows them down.
She stands there, and wilts. She wilts like the neglected flowers in their garden.