Melita
I never had a chance to be soft
I was always bloody knuckles
I was always bloody knuckles
She wasn’t certain what to expect of his impending reaction – but the smile said it all. She grinned in return, content with the impulsive find and purchase. “Good. I found them in a weird little shop in the Grounds.” As for the comment, she snorted, beginning to cast the notions aside. “I mean, maybe they’ll help you improve,” and if not, it was all part of the aesthetic.
Nor she did predict the hug – smushed against his side, but trying to return the favor with her arms outstretched. On rare occasions did she show other emotions besides the mercurial bits and pieces of her anger, rage, and brief bouts of melancholy, so she allowed a brighter grin to unfold against the seams of his clothes. “Glad you like them.”
Nor she did predict the hug – smushed against his side, but trying to return the favor with her arms outstretched. On rare occasions did she show other emotions besides the mercurial bits and pieces of her anger, rage, and brief bouts of melancholy, so she allowed a brighter grin to unfold against the seams of his clothes. “Glad you like them.”
and shards of glass
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
I wanted people to be afraid of hurting me
