Somatic
Loses herself for a moment in his driveling. In the way his voice accentuates itself as if in a plea, while only speaking words that hold absolutely no meaning to her, that hold no importance, as useless as the air she exhales. His face contorts under pain—she did break his arm after all—and under his crimson skin, under the translucency of tears from pain, from appeals meant to warm her heart, to cool her temper, to quell her rage, his eyes squint, whited by the glare of glasses, but the glimpse of sincerity within them holds her.
The stutter of her heart coinciding with the rampant stuttering of his speech shocks her, the fear she feels, as if his words could actually undo her, the audacity he has to try.
Connects a knee to his chin, his head bashing off her, and the thrill renews within her. The blood rushing from his mouth as he flops back, his story's ending preemptively beheaded. Stomps a boot down on his broken arm and grins widely, with glee, when he bellows.
His pain reverts to little whimpers nestled at the back of his throat and she pouts, her heel still drilling his skin as she bows, bringing her mouth next to his ear so there is no need for clarification.
"This body belongs to me."
