34. Enough
Some nights, when she wakes alone, her thoughts run away with her. They take her down paths inside herself she will not travel under light of day, where her personal dementors seem to fester and expand with every mental step she takes among them. They tell her things she'd never believe, were it not for the dark of the hour, a dark that encourages doubt as well as dreams.
You don't understand.
He doesn't love you.
He never really has.
You aren't enough for him
You never were.
It's nights like these she'll rise and turn on the lights, forcing away the darkness as well as the thought. It's nights like these she'll sit by the window and stare at the moon, and dare herself to believe.