[ The question is met with silence, her eyes darting away. Palpably hesitating, but ultimately she is honest with him. He asked. He deserves to know that, too.
A nod, small jerks of her chin, her gaze faraway and tortured. She did love him. She loves him. There was no stopping that, not even in death. She would carry him with her always. ]
Yes.
[ She feels dead, too, much of the time. Like a part of her died with him — and it hadn't stopped when she awoke here. It wouldn't. ]
But he is gone. For always. I shall never see him again. So, what does it matter?
[ Bitterness, unlike anything she'd harbored before within her. It escapes the thin lines of her mouth. She begins to pull away from him, physically and emotionally. ]
It is no less than I deserve, I suppose. To think I might be happy, I might get to keep somebody that understood me. Why should I be allowed happiness?
no subject
A nod, small jerks of her chin, her gaze faraway and tortured. She did love him. She loves him. There was no stopping that, not even in death. She would carry him with her always. ]
Yes.
[ She feels dead, too, much of the time. Like a part of her died with him — and it hadn't stopped when she awoke here. It wouldn't. ]
But he is gone. For always. I shall never see him again. So, what does it matter?
[ Bitterness, unlike anything she'd harbored before within her. It escapes the thin lines of her mouth. She begins to pull away from him, physically and emotionally. ]
It is no less than I deserve, I suppose. To think I might be happy, I might get to keep somebody that understood me. Why should I be allowed happiness?