✧ ཻུ۪۪. love is the most beautiful of dreams ,
and the worst of nightmares . . .
in which the quiet sister of lizzie and mika learns that to love deeply is to ache - that hurt is part of the package, and the beauty...
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TW: mention of sexual abuse/assault
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IN THE SECONDS that passed, Ella's hand never left Carl's.
His fingers were warm. Curled around hers as if they had already begun to memorize each and every curvature to her bones. Soft, too. Plush accompanied by the gentle perspiration that, when combined with her own, created an amateur delusion of nerves portrayed in the mutually shared soaked hands.
Ella remained unsure why he still entertained their touch. Her options were limited, two scenarios she had lacked the time to debate against one another. Either, this boy was provoked by the memory of their lips, or attempting to confront the fear the eyes of a stranger cultivated. For all memory of their intimacy, it was quickly drowned by the flood that washed through the car in the form of a glare. A menacing stare, followed back to the man who peered down at them. Suddenly, the girl was no longer dwelling on all that led up to their touch. She hardly even considered herself bothered by the intertwinement the longer their skin melted into each other. Not while she was interrogated with a haunting stare.
Her entire world had narrowed down into three's — herself, Carl, and this man.
This strange man, he didn't move, only stared through the glass. He wore an almost creepy smile, one which curled up on his lips to reveal his worn out teeth. All the while his knife was pressed against the glass, a minimal barrier that nearly replicated their unconscious tremble. What made it worse were the voices outside, and how throughout all of this, the sound was muffled due to the cars walls. Looking through the glass next, even more men were seen surrounding their camp, guns to both Rick and Michonne's heads.
"What do we do?" Ella whispered, her voice trembling slightly.
The girl doubted he would have an answer, though. Their scenario was equal to the other, and being glued to her left side, it made no difference than if he were on her right. For they were both trapped within the intimidating walls of an automobile that had lost its intention of transport long ago.
