are we out of the woods? | h.s

iv

her eyes lift from the page so they became level with mine. she has a glimmer of pity in them, and it starts to make me uncomfortable. i don't want pity from her. i pity myself enough as it is.

"wow..."

she says, glancing down at the book before closing it, but she leaves her thumb on the page she has stopped reading. i don't dare look her in the eyes for very long, because with each second my heart twisted with more and more anger. i don't want to see the way people look at me now, especially her. even without reading part of my song, she looked at me like i was a wounded, pathetic animal.

"yeah." i whisper, trying to keep my eyes on wall.

"you really loved him, didn't you?"

i gulp down whatever air i can when she lets the l words leave her lips. love. god, even just hearing it made me feel sick to my stomach. i think of him (even though i never want to) whenever that word rings through my head. love is a strong, powerful word in itself. when you label someone, who had once been a complete and utter stranger, with that word... those feelings really dig into your heart. it buries itself within you and no matter how long you scratch and scream at it, it will never leave.

"i guess i did."

did. past tense. the act of something in the past. not present, not future, not anything but fucking past. though i know those feelings are slumbering somewhere in the depths of me, they had ridden away to their refuge with their hands gripping my heart and left me sputtering in the dust and gravel, bleeding with nothing left to keep my alive. i had nothing left. i still don't.

"hey, wait," she pauses, furrowing her eyebrows as she flipped to the back of my notebook. i let my legs fall onto the bed and criss cross themselves, while i use most of my energy to press myself forward. she opens to one of the farthest pages, with surely nothing written on it, but pulled out a poleroid picture that had tucked itself in the corner of the book. if it hasn't already, my face drains of any and all color.

"what is this?" she asks curiously.

i recognize it immediately from the angle of my body in the picture, and the white furniture that i was trying to move. the memories of the that day sling themselves into my brain, and i remember everything down to the smell of the leather fabric the furniture was made of. i get a flash of his smile. i get a flash of the music playing softly in the background. i get a flash of the pounding of my heart. i get a flash of his fingertips running over the skin of my stomach.

"uh, that," i start to stammer, completely taken by surprise that the picture has been placed there. she raises an eyebrow and urges me to continue on, but i can't.

"this?" she motions to the picture once again, holding it out for me to take. it was bane to me though, i didn't dare want to touch it. the picture is so sharp in my mind i am sure it could cut me like a knife.

"i..."

she holds her hand up suddenly, seeing that i was struggling to find the right words.

"it's okay. i don't need to know."

my mouth still dangles open as if the words will find themselves falling out of my mouth like drool, but nothing happens. i once again am found to have clouded thoughts, with an empty voice to share them with.

and just as she pulls the song back open, i am stuck in the never ending cycle of memories once again.

hi yeah i don't know what this is (its random shit i wrote in like an hour lmao) but enjoy