Sticks & Stones

My face glowed like a ghost in the light of the screen. White and pale, reflecting the nausea in my stomach. You turned the interrogation lamp toward me and thrust it in my face, but instead of questions, you threw accusing words that cut as though you’d thrown swords.

The wetness on my cheeks was a mirror to the black text looking back at me. They were like claws, each end of each letter dug into me. Every word a hook that grabbed at my skin and tore, causing more pain than I thought imaginable. You took my own words and twisted them. You took my vulnerability and crushed it between your palms, threw the crumbled pieces back in my face, laughing while you did it. You took my feelings and disputed them, claiming that you could read me like an open book. While in fact, if you had been able to, we probably wouldn’t be here right now. Hiding behind our technology that had the ability to detach you enough to click send. Though if you had been looking into my copper eyes, those words could not have tumbled out of your mouth. You coward. You made me into a monster, complete with a terrible grimace and evil soul.

Before this, the only thing we had left were the memories. But now, you took even those and set them on fire.

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