❝it happens more
getting lost in folds of her own
he's kissing her limbs
stench of blood drowned by petrichor❞
viii.
van | reddish-black, sweet and an excellent pollinator.
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she wasn't a fool.
she winced as she dabbed the antibacterial dye on the side her neck, silently reprimanding herself for picking at the gash too soon. she knew that the place where the necklace dug into her neck would leave a scar.
the backside of her head still hurt but she couldn't remember much from that night. the doctors told her that she has a concussion and that her husband had busted her head with a lamp
as if she'd believe their bullshit.
but she wasn't a fool. yesterday, yesterday felix was a monster. but he wasn't himself. her Felix could never do that to her. he couldn't.
why did he hurt her yesterday? he was drunk.
he was drunk.
she still remembered how after he pulled at her hair, she pushed back. for the first time. and scrambled to get to her feet, tripping. she crawled all the way to her room as drunk felix followed.
hollowed out by pain, and in shock, she'd murmured. "stay away from me, lix." he flinched as his eyes flashed hurt. his expression epitome of heartbreak. the half moons under his eyes resembled the crescents on her palm.both depicting self-inflicted pain.
new moon.
the little courage, the resolve she'd gained, crumbled right in front of her eyes, slipped through her hands, barely skimming her fingertips like beach sand. she felt like time was running out. but she wasn't sure for what.
why did she need courage? courage against someone she loved? weren't they supposed be brave, together?
wasn't love after all what courage was?
he had then come forward, tears welled up in his eyes.
she gazed at him tiredly, leaned against the door and crumpled on the floor. just like that.
"I..." she whispered. "am sorry."
she was sorry. to him. felt sorry for herself.
the little courage she had, drained out of her. she passed out on the floor, blood pouring from the gash on her neck. by the time she woke up the next dawn, felix was...gone.
and it was the first time, in forever, she wished he wouldn't be back soon.
take your time, my love. she thought, as she twisted back the cap of the antiseptic bottle along with memories of last evening, shutting out everything, slowly.
love was her ruin. her slow poison that she'd gladly be damned for.
not realising that poison, my dear, kills.
❝he was her poison
she, the seraph
eroding slowly
how long could she last?❞
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a/n: if you liked this chapter, tap the star and vote! thoughts on knowing that naya infact 'knows' what's happening, sorta?
anyways, happy new month!!-may 1st [ April showers bring may flowers ]
-hazel