MABEL
Could one lose control, if they never had any to begin with? Where was the stopping point? The lines drawn? The release of rage? The ceasing, the desisting, when she’d only just begun?
But she’d take it – what little morsels were there on offering, infusing a breath that went nowhere, trying to steady her own pace, her own mind, her own clarity. He swiped and she backed away again, a mixture of limbs and rapid shifting, flailing a bit more than she intended.
(Like when she was slowly, painstakingly, drowning and starving beneath the waves, no control-)
Mabel lunged at his left side this time, not releasing the knife until she thought she could get closer, closer, closer, before attempting to slash against his ribs. No vital wound, if it managed at all; not pressed and cajoled in the way that Aamu had taught her. This was a game.
For now.
But she’d take it – what little morsels were there on offering, infusing a breath that went nowhere, trying to steady her own pace, her own mind, her own clarity. He swiped and she backed away again, a mixture of limbs and rapid shifting, flailing a bit more than she intended.
(Like when she was slowly, painstakingly, drowning and starving beneath the waves, no control-)
Mabel lunged at his left side this time, not releasing the knife until she thought she could get closer, closer, closer, before attempting to slash against his ribs. No vital wound, if it managed at all; not pressed and cajoled in the way that Aamu had taught her. This was a game.
For now.
If you dig under my feet
You will find things that you don't want to see
You will find things that you don't want to see
