Isla
Of all the things Isla expects, of all the things she's imagined, dreamed and dreaded, in none of the scenarios does Remi simply look at her. And she finds it impossible to meet his gaze, even as it flickers over her face and body - do I not look good enough any more? whispers treacherously through her mind, because no. Of course she doesn't. How can she look like anything when he has no idea who she is?
"Please don't," she whispers, fretting at the bloody hem of her dress and trying to turn in on herself without moving. "Don't look straight through me." Because once where his eyes held a weight she almost believes she could feel on her skin, now there's absolutely nothing at all, and gods, she hates it more than she ever expected she would.
Oh, though, has her huffing out a humourless laugh. "Oh," she repeats, shrugging her shoulders and wiping at her eyes. "Yeah, that tracks. You were always shitty with words."
"Please don't," she whispers, fretting at the bloody hem of her dress and trying to turn in on herself without moving. "Don't look straight through me." Because once where his eyes held a weight she almost believes she could feel on her skin, now there's absolutely nothing at all, and gods, she hates it more than she ever expected she would.
Oh, though, has her huffing out a humourless laugh. "Oh," she repeats, shrugging her shoulders and wiping at her eyes. "Yeah, that tracks. You were always shitty with words."
I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it
When you hit me, hit me hard
When you hit me, hit me hard
