I held on.
Held on when my hands had long since been shaking, when my bones ached from constantly bouncing back. Held on because I believed that's exactly what love meant: stretching, shaping, bending, until the other person was satisfied.

Every pull took a little more from me.
Every time you pulled harder, I swore I would endure. For you. For us.

Until that one moment.
The pull was too strong, too sudden, too merciless, and the sound of the ripping was louder than my heartbeat. 