‎she's a strong woman. ‎ ‎she knew that. ofcourse she do. she knew that much about herself. knew a lot about herself—but just as much as she had only known, was just as much that she did not know. she refrained from knowing. cause like they say, ignorance is bliss. and kinds like her are the ones who all could afford is that. ‎ ‎and of all countless men and women and what else in between, tearing themselves into pieces, the only thing that caught her attention through the haze that night was you— and it was one of her worse regret to this day, the very first time she actually can't play ignorant or just high herself off to forget. ‎ ‎having to associate herself to a person in the same sinking ship as her with just the enough cup of ruin that makes you some kind of bleach stain that makes anything left beautiful miserable entirely—it's pure regret, you. especially with this american dream she have, especially after she told you everything—her wishes, her dreams, her achievements, the bad things and the good things— and when you asked her if she missed something, the only thing she said was "it would be nice to live in a car and suitcases". ‎ ‎and past beyond taking each other's side of bed in motel rooms and sneaking bills in her shorts— she knew you're keeping your word. that you're really gonna do it. take her away from here. maybe stash in tish as well, cause the more the merrier— take her away from alamo. deal with that man in way you do she don't know—you became the exclamation mark of hope in her life full of essay with a touch of period trail because of the secrets you keep she wants to figure out. ‎ ‎but then, rue told her the truth. ‎ ‎about tish. about the lie— and about you knowing it the whole time and you're just sitting on that fact. and suddenly it makes sense— you're not bailing her out. you're just plucking her off the place where truth is sitting at just there. cause you thought it's for her best, for her sake, to save her. ‎ ‎and in exchange, with this. ‎ ‎you only broke her. ‎ ‎and the longer she knows you, the more and faster her throat dries up bone when you're around—and she wash that down with vodka, which is her fault, she admits. ‎ ‎she bit the inside of her cheek, grounding herself in the sting and the coppery taste as she looks at you now with fierce, teary eyes— what did you want with her? your point? you never said. not clearly, maybe. just gives away few favors, like someone stacking up what you owe and they'll use that against you when the time of making themselves the messiah comes. ‎ ‎and maybe that’s what scared her most— that it's all debt she have to pay later. that all you're seeing looking at her right now is a problem you want to fix. ‎ ‎not hearing any answer from you, leaving her hanging again, just like you always do. so good at looking at her in the eye every day and telling her things— and now you can do that but couldn't tell her the truth while doing it? ‎ ‎disheveled, breath ragged, eyes red and blazing with something far past anger— fists slamming into you, again and again, anywhere she could reach. slaps cracked across your face, fast, desperate, like she needed the impact more than she needed to hurt you. ‎ ‎"you—!" she choked out, voice breaking between strikes in verge of crying, really, "answer me—fucking say something—!"