eleven
“i want you to stop,” i whispered into her shoulder.
my thumb softly traced each scar on her arm under the material of her sweater.
“stop what,” she mumbled into my arm.
she was half asleep
and for the first time in weeks,
she wasn’t crying at two in the morning.
“hurting yourself,”
aspen sighed and buried her face deeper into my arm.
“i’ll stop when you stop.”
YOU ARE READING
Memories of Aspen
Short Story"Because memories of Aspen were all I had left." *Spin-off to Forgetting Roman*
