03-27-2020, 02:21 AM
She has seen so many different sides of him, but she isn’t sure if she has seen this one.
She can remember the way he would look at her when she was the one splintering apart in front of him, when they would both tremble with the ache of the pain inside their chests, because no matter how hard they tried they couldn’t keep them from falling apart. She can remember the way he would drag his lips across her neck and whisper his apologies and his love, when he would press kisses into her flesh like they could somehow act as a bandage to the wounds he unintentionally inflicted.
But she has never seen him like this, when tears flow so freely down his cheeks and he chokes on his sorrow every time he speaks. And she can’t help but to feel that it is somehow her fault, because he was so sure she had been there, and the idea that any version of her – even one that was not real – had caused him any kind of pain was unbearable.
“You didn’t kill her,” she says with more certainty than she actually feels, and she touches her lips again to his cheek. “I know you almost better than I know myself, and I know you would never kill our daughter.” She wants to be sure of that; she wants to believe unfailingly that the Jarris she has always known and loved would rather die himself than kill Kennice, or any of their children. “You didn’t kill her,” she repeats, softer this time, and she can’t quite hide the sadness in her brown eyes when she swallows hard and looks away from him, because she desperately needs what she says to be true.
He kisses her head, though, and she releases a trembling sigh before dropping her head to curl against his chest. She listens to the steady thrum of his heart, and can feel the way hers flutters almost frantically, like it’s trying to catch up to him – always afraid of being left behind, of his heart going where hers cannot follow. “I always regret letting you leave,” and the words are spoken so quietly into his skin that she thinks the sound of their hearts might have drowned them out.
P L U M E R I A
when all of the light is gone
a single spark is all I need.
She can remember the way he would look at her when she was the one splintering apart in front of him, when they would both tremble with the ache of the pain inside their chests, because no matter how hard they tried they couldn’t keep them from falling apart. She can remember the way he would drag his lips across her neck and whisper his apologies and his love, when he would press kisses into her flesh like they could somehow act as a bandage to the wounds he unintentionally inflicted.
But she has never seen him like this, when tears flow so freely down his cheeks and he chokes on his sorrow every time he speaks. And she can’t help but to feel that it is somehow her fault, because he was so sure she had been there, and the idea that any version of her – even one that was not real – had caused him any kind of pain was unbearable.
“You didn’t kill her,” she says with more certainty than she actually feels, and she touches her lips again to his cheek. “I know you almost better than I know myself, and I know you would never kill our daughter.” She wants to be sure of that; she wants to believe unfailingly that the Jarris she has always known and loved would rather die himself than kill Kennice, or any of their children. “You didn’t kill her,” she repeats, softer this time, and she can’t quite hide the sadness in her brown eyes when she swallows hard and looks away from him, because she desperately needs what she says to be true.
He kisses her head, though, and she releases a trembling sigh before dropping her head to curl against his chest. She listens to the steady thrum of his heart, and can feel the way hers flutters almost frantically, like it’s trying to catch up to him – always afraid of being left behind, of his heart going where hers cannot follow. “I always regret letting you leave,” and the words are spoken so quietly into his skin that she thinks the sound of their hearts might have drowned them out.
when all of the light is gone
a single spark is all I need.