Im Not Sure Why I Write These Tags Lol - Tumblr Posts

"You are my sunshine," their breath hitched, tongue going numb as another scream shattered the air.

"My only—"

What came next?

"You make me—"

Their cheeks were wet. What right did they have to cry? They weren't the one bleeding. They were the one singing a lullaby so they wouldn't hear—

The scream was louder this time, higher pitched with agony. They didn't know what could cause that kind of pain.

When skies are—

You never know—

There was a knife on the table, three feet from their hand.

What they had done, the way the horrible truth of it oozed out of their soul; it felt kind of like bleeding.

It felt like screaming under water.

It felt like dying.

If it was their fault, did it matter if it killed them, too?

There was a knife, three feet from their hand.

Their lover screamed again, vocal cords running raw.

Had there even been a choice? Yes, yes, always yes, but had there really?

Their hands were shaking. For some reason, the sight of them trembling drew a sob from their chest.

"Sunshine," they mumbled, but whatever words came after that were lost in their mouth.

There was a knife three feet from their hand.

The next time their lover screamed it cut off so abruptly they wondered if they had gone deaf. If their brain had simply turned off, stolen every sound in the air for protection.

Their lover didn't scream again.

There was a knife in their hand.

"They're alive," they whispered. "They're alive they're alive they're alive."

Say it enough and you believe it.

There was a knife in their hand.

The villain laughed.

Their hand clenched around the hilt.

If they saved their lover, their lover wouldn't forgive them. They knew that. How could they—the person they loved the most, the one person they trusted, had lured them in for the villain.

If their lover was dead—well.

There was a knife in their hand.

The villain was laughing.

And they were going to make sure the villain died painfully.

Maybe by the end of it, they would have something to actually cry about.

Their lover whimpered, a horrible wretched sound. It sounded like hope. It sounded like ‘I’m still here.’

They had a knife in their hand.

And they knew how to use it.

So they did.