So I'm having kind of a mental breakdown. It's not even a mental breakdown, necessarily, just a minor freak-out that's taking place in front of my school—which is an awful place to have a freak-out, but here I am.
It wasn't a big deal.
It isn't a big deal.
God, just—I hate being looked at like he looked at me. It gives me every bad chill there is, and I don't know what to do. Lois's cousin is fifteen, a few inches shorter than me, and completely harmless, but his eyes were like his, and I can't handle those kind of eyes.
"Stephanie? I know you're not, but are you okay?"
I lift my head and stare dubiously at Noah.
"Yeah," I say, because he has nice eyes. Warm eyes, concerned eyes, mirthful eyes, whatever you want to call it.
He doesn't have his eyes.
a/n: this last sentence is meh but i can't think of anything else so.
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comfort {complete}
Short Storyin which a victim of rape recovers, with the help of a snarky pair of siblings//spinoff of Warmth//#335 in short story (well, it USED to be; i'm not bitter, don't worry) (jk, super bitter) TRIGGER WARNING FOR RAPE, please don't read this if it's gon...
