[ Somehow, gentle was worse. Gentle wormed its way under her skin the way the bruise had. Kindness had no place in him; it felt wrong. She jerked her chin away roughly — if anything, just to resist on principle, though her hands trembled. ]
Don't touch me.
[ Focusing on this spared her focusing on what he was saying. What was he saying? She was a bastard. A nobody. He was right; if he left her here dead, gutted, she'd be forgotten. Not a single person would mourn. No one.
But it had to be that way. She had no name. No house. ]
no subject
Don't touch me.
[ Focusing on this spared her focusing on what he was saying. What was he saying? She was a bastard. A nobody. He was right; if he left her here dead, gutted, she'd be forgotten. Not a single person would mourn. No one.
But it had to be that way. She had no name. No house. ]