I wanted to ask her so many questions but I didn’t because we don’t talk to people anymore because saying something would be stranger than saying nothing to a stranger.
We are hours and minutes reaching for the same second, holding hands as we spin forward into new days and the promise of something better.
I don’t want you to be repulsed by me.
I don’t have a closet filled with umms and ellipses ready to insert at the beginnings and ends of sentences. I don’t know how to be a verb, an adverb, any kind of modifier. I’m a noun through and through.
His skin is flawless, unblemished, his jawline sharp and strong. His eyes are the palest shade of emerald I’ve ever seen. He’s beautiful. His crooked smile is calculated evil.
Juliette.” His voice hugs the letters in my name so softly I die 5 times in that second.
The only existence I know now is the one I was given. An echo of what used to be.
Words, I think, are such unpredictable creatures.
Juliette,” I whisper. “My name is Juliette.
He leans forward and I freeze. I thaw. I melt. “Juliette,” I whisper. “My name is Juliette.” His lips soften into a smile that cracks apart my spine. He repeats my name like the word amuses him. Entertains him. Delights him. In 17 years no one has said my name like that.
Words, I think, are such unpredictable creatures. No gun, no sword, no army or king will ever be more powerful than a sentence.
Butterflies catch fire in my stomach. An inexplicable humiliation is searing my flesh. I don’t know where to look.
I felt then, in that moment, the insubstantial weight of my sixteen years in a way I’d never felt before. I had no control here. No power. I didn’t even have my driver’s license. I didn’t have a job, I didn’t have my own bank account. There was nothing I could do. Nothing I could do to help, to make this better. I had no connections in the world, no voice anyone would listen to. I felt at once everything, everything, and nothing at all.
So you’re exactly like a Venus flytrap. You reel ‘em in. Clamp ‘em down. Eat ‘em up.” I didn’t respond. “Mmmmm,” he said. “You’re like a sexy super scary plant.” I close my eyes. Covered my mouth in horror. “Why is that so wrong?” he said then bent down to meet my gaze. Tugged on a lock of my hair to get me to look up. “Why does this have to be so horrible? Why can’t you see how awesome this is?
He was their father, her husband, and the reason they all died a brutal, untimely death. And some days i wonder why I insist on keeping myself alive.
I’m wearing dead cotton on my limbs and a blush of roses on my face. His eyes scan the silhouette of my structure and the slow motion makes my heart race. I catch the rose petals as they fall from my cheeks, as they float around the frame of my body, as they cover me in something that feels like the absence of courage.
My eyes are 2 windows cracked open by the chaos in this world.
Maybe we both fell in love with the illusion of something more.
His arms are tatted up, half sleeves to his elbows. His eyebrow is missing a ring they must’ve confiscated. Dark blue eyes dark brown hair sharp jawline strong lean frame. Gorgeous Dangerous. Terrifying. Horrible.
My body is cracking from the pain I have swallowed so Many times, heaving with sobs I can no longer suppress, my dignity dissolving in my tears, the agony of these past few days ripping my skin to shreds.