[That look on his face and his long silence is answer enough, but she waits for him to speak anyway. Not out of patience—no, he has long since worn that down into nothing over the past week—but because she wants to hear what he has to say. She wants to hear him say it, she wants to know for certain that she is right about him. That he lets no one in, and that he is just as hypocritical as he claims her to be. It won't bring her satisfaction, only more anger, but she needs to know.
So that silence becomes even more deafening when she says nothing, waits with the breath held in her lungs, ready to shout and scream at him when it finally comes...
And when it does...
...
It, once again, brings her no satisfaction. No pride in knowing that she was right. That urge to shout at him that she told him so has all but dwindled away, leaving nothing in its wake but rage.
Because here she is handing another piece of her broken heart to him, pressing it into his palms and begging for him to take it, and should he put that at risk again, she would never forgive him. He should know that, he should know better, but here he is, accepting it only to turn his back and run off with it. She is putting herself on the line, trying to step across that one that she keeps drawn between them, but it is him who pushes her back this time.
....
Without even thinking, her palm comes up to strike him against his cheek, hard and fast and with the strength of a thousand winds.]
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So that silence becomes even more deafening when she says nothing, waits with the breath held in her lungs, ready to shout and scream at him when it finally comes...
And when it does...
...
It, once again, brings her no satisfaction. No pride in knowing that she was right. That urge to shout at him that she told him so has all but dwindled away, leaving nothing in its wake but rage.
Because here she is handing another piece of her broken heart to him, pressing it into his palms and begging for him to take it, and should he put that at risk again, she would never forgive him. He should know that, he should know better, but here he is, accepting it only to turn his back and run off with it. She is putting herself on the line, trying to step across that one that she keeps drawn between them, but it is him who pushes her back this time.
....
Without even thinking, her palm comes up to strike him against his cheek, hard and fast and with the strength of a thousand winds.]