There is something shrill echoing in your head, bouncing back and forth until it consumes your thoughts. or block them out. either way, you can't think about anything else.

It's your scream, resounding into your pillow, the sheer frequency of it giving you a headache.

At least, it's better than the constant replay, like a looped tape or a broken record, of that and this and those and him, things that happened that you can't take back, things you want to have right now at this very moment but are just impossible to get.

The beautiful and terrible thing was, you can't stop. He drives you crazy almost daily and somehow, you are used to it. to the frustration, the self-torment, the utter insanity of this in-between line too dangerous to cross.

There it is again. Thatsmilethoseeyesthatfacethosehandsthatvoicethosewords...

The pillow disappears with what's left of your hearing as you outright scream.


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