standard disclaimer apply
featuring aph america, historical
.
there is a boy with a mirror.
two mirrors.
where she sees herself on their surfaces:
worried and tense and anxious and if she has any option she prefers to be anywhere but being with this boy.
nesia pushed the pen on the table just ten millimeter away from the edge to keep the silence alive yet behind her the seams of the universe starts to shatter,
and he hears and there's a crease between his eyebrows, a silent disapproval,
although the lips under the mirrors stretched and curled upwards still
but the mirrors hide, the mirrors shield, the mirrors prevent her to truly know this boy.
[he is here to help me] says the woman to herself, tugging her bandages.
"so." he shifts, he runs a hand through his gleaming golden hair. "tell me, what does power taste like?"
she smiles as best as she can with her recently broken jaw. "power is power."
he grins, satisfied, and she feels a weight lifted from her shoulders.
[and power corrupts]