I screamed and begged for him to hit me, to make me feel anything. I needed solace, but my words spit chaos. His pupils were dilated, and I knew the storm had already come. I knew that the clouds would weigh heavy and wouldn't dissipate until sunrise. My heart was cracking under the pressure, my ribs were cranked open, and ever so carefully he put the scapul to my skin and drug it across my chest. I felt life seep out of me. I felt everything, and nothing. And all he had to say was, "you turn bright skies grey and you'll never understand what it is to be whole"
Whole. 6.22.17











