#grimdark thread

          a sharp inhale of breath, maybe a few seconds of a fleeting sense of security before she feels as if she is drowning. maybe she owes it to the first time her mother hit her, sharp nails leaving a cut on her cheek. it was only a hit. she didn’t mean it. she was sorry, so so sorry, steph, baby, mommy would never hurt you on purpose. you must know that, right? right? she thinks briefly that maybe she owes it to her father, whos total defiance to admit she existed made her feel smaller than she actually was. 

          maybe as she drags the breaths in and out, her lungs constricting against her rib cage, maybe, just maybe, she owes it to the nights spent sneaking food, only to deal with the punishment of being caught. life is a fleeting thing. she doesn’t know her own triggers. they may be a hand lifted too fast, or even just using certain words strung together. she is too weak. she knows this. she has been told time and again she is too sensitive, everything sets her off, her therapist asks her why she is so easily set off, her answer is that maybe at some point everything has been against her.