{Her innocence was taken. Her innocence was lost. Lylibeth Adams became something else. Something else that is meant for vengeance.}
In the quiet depths of her mind, a storm raged. A tempest of emotions that she couldn't quite understand or control...
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The young man stood tall with a calm expression on his face as he reached out to touch the shoulder of the girl seated on the couch. His eyes were steady and kind, radiating a sense of warmth and comfort. He wore a simple white t-shirt and jeans, giving off an approachable vibe. His hand was outstretched, ready to offer a reassuring touch. They were as snug as her own.
From the trees outside, a distant bird called. The wooden floor creaked softly beneath his shifting weight.
His eyes flicked briefly to her clasped hands, then returned to her face—unblinking.
The room was still, and he stood like he meant no harm.
The young girl sat frozen, her eyes fixed on the outstretched hand about to touch her shoulder. Her face was filled with apprehension and uncertainty, as if unsure of what was to come. She wore a blue floral dress that hung loosely on her small frame, and her hands were clasped in front of her.
Her eyes darted to his face, then quickly away. Her lashes trembled.
The scene was quiet. But it was clear that the young girl was hesitant to accept the touch, as if unsure of the intentions behind it. But despite the apprehension, there was a glimmer of hope in her eyes, as if she was open to the possibility of comfort and being saved.
Panting.
She blinked.
His hand crushed her mouth.
No sound. Only breath, hot and wrong on her cheek.
And her tears, falling, falling, falling.
Tears.
Tears dripped uncontrollably from her eyes. She could smell him. She felt his breath against her.