Here, the one with a stone face and a cold heart loses it, shudders, frantically catches her breath, over and over, silently, ever so subtly.
Those around will not see it, will never see how she, helplessly, mixes her drink with a sedative, closes her eyes and freezes.
Here, the one who is in control, the one who knows her shit, loses it, stares at the void for too long, holds her breath for too long, bounces at once.
What poisons her from the inside does it insensibly for those around, but for her it causes Pompeii to fall to ruin.
Somewhere, sometime, the strong one learns to hold it together.
Now, she tries to loosen the stranglehold around her neck, to untangle the knots on the back of her throat, fecklessly.
The drink tastes awful, takes countenance to finish, and once she does, it all vanishes, all she holds onto, both prudence and reasoning, and leaves her with knots, lumps, uncertainty, those around.
Here, she accepts.
— let it go, let it happen, sit back, give it some time || Anastasia K.