MELITA
You’re forgiven was like a mirage, a hallucination, because the one moment Melita slipped back into that blighted mess, all hell would break loose again, the sorries and apologies and regrets gone, turned ravenous and rapacious. But she took them for what they were now – that one person had already absolved and pardoned her, and maybe would once more when she returned and yielded to that despondent discord. She was held and surrounded and cherished for a second, and that felt better than a thousand other knives and daggers poised into her ribs and pressing on her lungs; she could’ve stayed there for an eternity, but with ominous convictions and demonstrative demons, it was only a matter of time before she sunk straight back into the mire. “Thank you,” she whispered again, for any number of things – for comfort, for cherishing, for holding when she shouldn’t have been, when she was a monster, when she was an ogre. “If I lose control,” she ceased for a second, whispering into garments and hands and pieces of a past she wished she could have back. “Could you stop me again? Please?” Before she annihilated someone else? Before she brutalized and couldn’t return to her roots? Before she was a ridiculous beast, incapable of doing anything else except condemning, except maiming, except ripping, and tearing, taking apart things she had always been devoted to?See I've come to burn your kingdom down
