Pale
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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Wed, Mar 26, 2014
To everyone else it looked like a regular match. It looked like a regular fire. I could see that it was different, but no one else would understand. The fire glowed and sparked as I delicately touched it, with the end of my burnt fingertips. As I lie in the hospital bed, the fire grows dimmer and dimmer each passing day, and there is nothing I can do about it. And I fear the day that I wouldn’t wake up, and the fire would no longer be ignited, only a wooden stick with burnt ash at the tip of it.
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I struggled and lashed out at him hoping to cause some, any damage at all that might allow me to escape, instead his grip tightened and a whimper escaped without my consent. His touch burned, or at least I imagined it burning, sizzling my skin until it was burnt to a crisp. He clawed down the back of my dress, shredding the lace fabric to bits as if it was paper, it floated to the ground like confetti, I looked at it in disgust, as if it was celebrating my exposure. The cold air of the store room nipped at my bare back, contrasting between the burning fire his touch inflicted. I felt sick. He was now shoving himself closer to me until it was impossible for me to move. I could hardly even breath. I was seeing red and I couldn't even do anything. I felt so helpless. Tears welled up in my eyes and they threatened to spill. I shut them tight wishing I had just stayed at home. Suddenly the pressure released. I could breath. Once again I was shocked and didn't know what was happening until I opened my eyes and saw the rogue getting up and looking to my right. I hadn't even noticed the large figure standing protectively next to me and so I was staggering away from him too. Power radiated from him making me feel safe and scared at the same time.

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