and i know that none of it matters

It was stupid of you to believe he would understand. The way his face twists, your heart twists with it, his stare puncturing deep down to all of the things that lay hidden in the bottom of your heart. The way he speaks your name only crumbles your defense further, face contorting with the throbbing pain that has ceased your chest. ‘You think so little of me’ as his eyes search for yours, you can only stare back through a blurry line of tears, refusing to recognize the brushes of disbelief, of abandonment on his face. ‘that you believe that I would harm your son?’ “No.” You strain to speak, your throat uncomfortably tight as your head shakes, body trembles. “No.”

Again, it is all you manage despite the memories of betrayal, the crippling agony it is to remember her—stolen before she was ever yours, laying mangled under a tree that you refuse to ever see. How long had it been since you (you and that beautiful—lying—man, your face angled with the sharpest grief, his in anger, an anger that you understood all too well, one that reaches now to color the tangled mess of I’m sorry’s and explanations that you do not owe anyone) had been stained with the dirt that hid her, spun of indian ink and innocence, all of those pieces of your heart that had been only for her, the fragments of the could-have-beens and the remnants of your love for a heathen? How long? You only close your eyes as silence answers, pulling you into your regrets, your sufferings.

What would it mean to see it now, to reaffirm that she had been real (you have questioned it, questioned how something so incredibly untouched and pure could have been robbed of her first breaths, of all the life that would have followed, all the beautiful things that would have been laid out at her feet) and that he once looked at you as if you were something more than the nothing you’ve become to him, and that man that had hovered so intimately close to Etziel is the same monster that mauled her? You breathe, rib cage aching with effort underneath the gravity that has found you, the sound of his retreat forcing your burning eyes open. Suddenly it is not enough to simply cave in, the wounds his words forced to the surface, his cowardice in simply walking away igniting a craving for revenge, for justification.

“Do you think so little of me,” you mock, eyes narrowing with misplaced convictions, shifting blame, anger, just like he has done to you. “that you believe that would I act without reason?” He continues moving, and you move with him, water swallowing your ankles, your knees, and what you wouldn’t give to have it swallow all of you, to swallow him so that he could not run in this moment, your anger and grief blinding you from your desperate need to simply hold him. “I believed in that man, that fucking cretin that dared to even look at my son within that cave. Some part of me even loved him (as I do you, my blind little fool), I trusted him. And for all that is worth, when I birthed my daughter and her eyes were riddled with death, skin cold to touch, he took her from me, mutilated the only thing that I had to remember her by, hated me for having had another man, a man I never even wanted to—“ you stifle a sob, sucking in air as you fight against the weight still pressed so heavily against your chest, struggle to stay standing with all of your trembling, ashamed to let him see the darkest sides of you, all of the things that you have tried to hide laid bare for his judgment.

“He stole her because I believed,” it is a quiet, quivering admission, naked in all of its pain. Moments pass, and where you had been watching him, only him, your tear-streaked face turns to your universe, the ghost of a smile finding your lips. “Half the time I find myself just watching him, unable to understand what I did to deserve him. I can’t sleep, and when I do, I find only nightmares waiting. He hates me for it, but I cannot bear to have him away from me for even a moment because I live in fear every day of losing him, because I was too careless, too stupid, too willing to trust.” Kaleidoscope eyes move to find Erebos’ face again, quietly pleading for him to at least try to comprehend. “I trust you; love you, with all that I am, Erebos.” You offer him a fracturing, fleeting smile before you somber again.

“But try to understand, to lose him, it would destroy all that's left of me.”

as long as i'm inside this dream with you