theaveragepenguin
She gave me daisies, hastily wrapped and barely a bouquet. She was a little girl, of course. Innocent, clean, pure. Completely oblivious to the world. She gave me daisies.
She gave me the world.
She does not believe this (this reality or the shadowy echoes of it). She does not see the smile in his eyes or the sweet sound of his laughter. She can not. She cries.
The shadows were hovering over her. Dancing. Pirouetting. They moved over her with a grace that she envied and with the freedom that she vied for.
To everyone else, he was the perfect gentleman - so handsome, so charismatic and polite. But of course, she thought, it was too good to be true.
He was a gentleman to the public, but a sadistic madman at home.
She sees him turn to give her a slight smile, and the ladies around giggle while some others glare, (the former sighing in whimsical fairytales, the latter burning with jealousy). She does neither. She shivers in dread as she recognises the hidden mania, and slowly returns it with a shaky smile of her own.
"Go, my dear, and don't forget to visit!" she called out to her beloved son, not believing how fast the years had gone by. To think that seeing him everyday would no longer happen and that she'd only be limited to those holidays and special rare occasions that don't come fast enough once a year were hard to accept, and she let out a wistful smile as she reminisced about their past.
Your smile falters, and you freeze for half a second, thinking that people would notice. But then you realise, why would they?
You close your eyes, and your tears well up. You breathe deep, and your mask is back on.
It has never fallen.
And so, I mend my wounds. I sew the stitches in my heart. *criss-cross, criss-cross*
The scars will remind me of what I once was and will never be.
The image of the locket haunted him, and it was all that he could think of. He had to find it. He had to. It was the only thing his mother had left him. It was the only thing that he could tie to his past.
He needs it to find himself. He needs it to live.
The only thing that we supposedly have right now is dignity. But what is dignity. To stand with pride? Our sense of well-being? I'd gladly throw it away. If I were to be happy. If I were to maybe be in love. If I were to be free.
And the shadow of his silhouette towers over me, and I feel myself trembling in fear. There is no escape. There is no way out. And I brace myself for what is to come.
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