"What a shame she's fucked in the head," they said.
A flip switches. All that anger and irritation and hurt turns into something numb. A feeling so cold that she can barely breathe. His words strike a nerve and her eyes drop. Aidon feels it and freezes ahead of her, head snapping up and eyes on her in an instant, concern trickling along their bond. Maeve doesn't feel it. She doesn't feel anything. Things have changed. Things have changed. Things have changed. There is a moment where she forgets how to breathe and it's preferable to the overwhelming apathy that's taken up residence instead.
It makes sense. All the things he's saying. Even though she doesn't fully register them. Just like she doesn't register the tears slipping down her cheeks or the way her heart shatters. Is it even beating anymore? "Okay." She doesn't realize she's said it, her voice foreign to her own ears, sounding like a distant mumble as her fingers twist into the sleeves of her sweater.
She does see it. She really does, but he's right. It isn't enough. She wants more. She wants the house on the hill and a white picket fence and him to come home to with their child waiting there for her. It was all she ever wanted and she was so close. So fucking close. Yet here it is, slipping through her fingers like grains of sand that she could never truly hold on to no matter how hard she tried. Had she asked for too much? Wanted too much? Maeve truly can't say anymore, but she's selfish and she can't let him go. Not entirely.
The Nightshade finds it in herself to speak, unsure if her words even make sense at this point, "It's enough." It has to be, doesn't it? There isn't another option. There isn't anything else she can ask for. Not when anything else would be too much. It's always too much, isn't it? She's always too much. "I won't keep you out of their life if you want to be involved. You can be there and help however you decide to."
It makes sense. All the things he's saying. Even though she doesn't fully register them. Just like she doesn't register the tears slipping down her cheeks or the way her heart shatters. Is it even beating anymore? "Okay." She doesn't realize she's said it, her voice foreign to her own ears, sounding like a distant mumble as her fingers twist into the sleeves of her sweater.
She does see it. She really does, but he's right. It isn't enough. She wants more. She wants the house on the hill and a white picket fence and him to come home to with their child waiting there for her. It was all she ever wanted and she was so close. So fucking close. Yet here it is, slipping through her fingers like grains of sand that she could never truly hold on to no matter how hard she tried. Had she asked for too much? Wanted too much? Maeve truly can't say anymore, but she's selfish and she can't let him go. Not entirely.
The Nightshade finds it in herself to speak, unsure if her words even make sense at this point, "It's enough." It has to be, doesn't it? There isn't another option. There isn't anything else she can ask for. Not when anything else would be too much. It's always too much, isn't it? She's always too much. "I won't keep you out of their life if you want to be involved. You can be there and help however you decide to."
Maeve
