Amalia
A deeper conversation is all I want from you-
Loren's outburst is meant with more of the stoic, emotionless silence, his glare and voice falling upon her like water over stone. There is nothing she can say just now to make him feel better, no platitudes to offer, no absolution of his guilt. Even when his voice grows softer and soothing Amalia does not yield. He will not talk her out of her responsibility for this.Not today.
Her hands fall at his insistence, the claws abandoning the skin and leaving welts behind. Obedient she listens as he chastises her further, too tired to fight, wanting only to have him leave her alone. "Okay." He is so very good at making her feel lesser for her pain, his own suffering ever outweighing hers, and she does not feel like having a dick wagging contest over who has done the worst, hurt the most.
Stepping back from the counter, Amalia pulls her hands back together, fidgeting with her clear opposition to her false, affected calm. "I... I heard about Abasi. I'm sorry. He... I liked him."
- I want the words you're afraid to say:
the lonely ones you keep hidden
between the folds of your heart
