( she's trying to breathe, breathe, think of this as real, this is real isn't it—this color, what's it called? green? isn't that the color of puke after a particularly horrifying test? when your stomach is upset? then why is it so pretty?
she leans into the touch, uncaring of the splinters for now, )
It's. . . gone, Heine. The little voice. . . ( her own voice cracks, and she's not sure whether she's happy or utterly terrified. )
no subject
she leans into the touch, uncaring of the splinters for now, )
It's. . . gone, Heine. The little voice. . . ( her own voice cracks, and she's not sure whether she's happy or utterly terrified. )