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Bias scenario inspiration:

Being the offspring of a diagnosed narcissistic parent had taught you to deny yourself, prioritizing others.  Blind devotion for your other parent who had attachment issues stunted developing trust or authenticity with anyone else.  What few close experiences you had with men had taught you that you were only worth as much as their carnal interest or how easy you were to be around. How little “work”.  Inconvenient since you’d been chronically ill since the age of 11.

Now in your 20’s, you had long determined never to need anything, and certainly to never ask. Over the years you’d become a master of covering up symptoms, physical and emotional.  Your unfortunate ability to internalize just about anything had often resulted in being deemed “dramatic” because of your untroubled expression.  No one believed you anymore. Even if you told the truth.  Even your honesty sounded like lies, colored by your expectation that they wouldn’t believe you anyway.  After faking for so many years, even you weren’t sure when you were telling the truth.

In any case, you were just fine without anyone.  You were resigned to your low-maintenance identity.  Words echoed out of your childhood, “You shouldn’t need or trust people.  In the end you stand alone before God.”  

So you were just fine.

You were just fine. Before.

With legs drawn in to your chest, you bowed your forehead to your knees, interlacing white knuckles behind your head under the notch of your skull.  It was a posture, now, both purposeful and an enduring childhood instinct.  A dismal attempt to physically protect yourself from a non-physical assailant.  It had been stalking you for well over a decade.  Shuddering, you finally gave in, wilting beneath the onslaught.  

Just for a minute, you thought.  You could slip off your defenses just for a minute.  You let the tears come.

Would you ever be happy again…?  

It was so foreign, you hadn’t even realized you were happy until the glimmer disappeared.    Now gone with a hopeless finality.  In a fog, you chastised yourself for not even recognizing joy when it walked beside you, even when it held your hand warmly and pressed weighty kisses to your temple.  The acts of skinship that for most were normal in the bounds of a relationship were profound intimacies for you.

You recalled his contented sigh.  It was so warm.  

The sound and brush of his breath against your forehead would haunt you...  

A strong passing wind split off down the alley, swirling its way back to your perch on the steps.   Warm tears quickly became icy against your cheeks, stinging your skin, and bringing you back to your five senses.  How long had you been under this time?