He ran his hands over my pain, lingering over the dents and worn edges of my past. When I thought he would run away he told me I was a warrior, and I would never again have to fight another battle alone, and I never did. For every bad dream, every PTSD attack, every anxiety attack, he was at my side calming me, reasuring me I was safe with him. He had conquered what no man or psychiatrist ever had. He brought down my walls, brick by brick. He let me be raw and vulnerable. He made me feel safe. He removed my armor, piece by piece, until I was bare and unprotected; guarded only by the strength of his arms. Only then did I realize my grave mistake, all too late. As he looked lovingly into my eyes and whispered," I love you ." as he plunged a dagger through my heart gently lying me on the ground leaving me alone to bleed out.
Written by Quinnzelle
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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