Gentle eyes soften, melting completely so that she wouldn’t be surprised if the green began to leak out and turn her skin into forests too.
And there’s words now but she can’t answer because she’s choking on her frantic lungs and she’s scared of what blood and guts will come out if she opens her mouth. But then comes her name as a battle cry and there’s only one person who’s ever been able to say her name like that.
And despite herself, despite her anger and her self hatred and her loss, she reaches a hand out of the darkness she’d curled herself under, throwing out a lifeline, the last one she’s got. When fingers find hers, when she feels weight press down beside her, she almost recoils but then there’s the warmth she remembers and she struggles to keep still.
Things dissolve within her, bones crumbling to pieces beneath her skin. But the fingers holding hers are trembling, I bring life. And victory has always stood on the back of sacrifice.
— ~Excerpts from a book I’ll never write #98