Was it mother? Was she still in her head, after all this time, compromising her thoughts and weakening her mind with madness? Why did-
As soon as the chain loosens, as soon as he leaps to his feet and backs away, some part of her mind screams in alarm. Stop him. You can still finish this. Stop him.
But she doesn't. She can't. She can barely even move for several moments- not long, but more than enough time for him to take advantage of her distraction- but he doesn't. He moves away, gets space. Wise. What is wrong with her? She's letting him run-
...but he doesn't do that either. He just gets enough distance to escape her and waits, glaring at her with that familiar loathing. What- what does he want from her? And why can't she finish him off?
"I want to help you!"
Lies. All of it. That look on his face, the hate, the fear, that's the truth. She knows it. And she prefers it to pity anyway.
She holds her defensive posture for a few moments, hands shaking- another humiliating display of weakness, just like the tears she can't stop from gathering in her eyes, just like the shaky breathing that she can't seem to contain.
Weak.
It occurs to her that she could reclaim the advantage still. Catch him off-guard. Grab the chain again. Somehow, the thought just makes her tired.]
Well? What are you waiting for?
[Her voice can't quite muster the mocking tone or even the bite of challenge that she wants. It comes out shaky, uneven, emotional. It comes out pathetic. She finally averts her gaze, if only to hide her expression, her unacceptable loss of self-control.]
no subject
Was it mother? Was she still in her head, after all this time, compromising her thoughts and weakening her mind with madness? Why did-
As soon as the chain loosens, as soon as he leaps to his feet and backs away, some part of her mind screams in alarm. Stop him. You can still finish this. Stop him.
But she doesn't. She can't. She can barely even move for several moments- not long, but more than enough time for him to take advantage of her distraction- but he doesn't. He moves away, gets space. Wise. What is wrong with her? She's letting him run-
...but he doesn't do that either. He just gets enough distance to escape her and waits, glaring at her with that familiar loathing. What- what does he want from her? And why can't she finish him off?
"I want to help you!"
Lies. All of it. That look on his face, the hate, the fear, that's the truth. She knows it. And she prefers it to pity anyway.
She holds her defensive posture for a few moments, hands shaking- another humiliating display of weakness, just like the tears she can't stop from gathering in her eyes, just like the shaky breathing that she can't seem to contain.
Weak.
It occurs to her that she could reclaim the advantage still. Catch him off-guard. Grab the chain again. Somehow, the thought just makes her tired.]
Well? What are you waiting for?
[Her voice can't quite muster the mocking tone or even the bite of challenge that she wants. It comes out shaky, uneven, emotional. It comes out pathetic. She finally averts her gaze, if only to hide her expression, her unacceptable loss of self-control.]