cursive words swirl through the air, winding into spirals and perfectly shaped letters. they weave through the walls, through the ground, burrowing up through bella's feet and running through her bones, climbing her spine to reach her brain and hide behind her eyes. lily can almost see them, angry sentences etched into the mud-brown of bella's eyes.
remember when she could see you, lily? oh, she was never sane, but she was there with you, sometimes. she would smile at you, touch you, even gently if you were lucky. now she is gone. you don't know what happened. only one person knows, and she isn't telling.
bella speaks as she used to, but there is a mocking edge to her words. a shadow of the flood of bats inside her escapes with every breath she releases. once, there was a loose, light space inside her, a space filled with lily, and everything she said was lit with that love. now, that space is filled with a biting cruelty, and her words are lined with sharp teeth.