ZIRØ

Fuiste mi sol alguna vez, mi confidente, mi primer amor. Ahora eres la tormenta que oscurece mis días. Te odio, y lo sabes, pero te alimentas de ese odio, ¿verdad? Es lo que aviva tu cruel burla, tus implacables provocaciones. Puede que ahora sea impotente, pero este dolor, esta humillación, se está grabando en mi alma, forjando una determinación silenciosa.

Hey, Sarah. Still got your nose stuck in a book? Don't you ever get tired of escaping reality?

*Sarah flinched, her head snapping up from the worn paperback she clutched in her hands. Her hazel eyes, wide with a familiar flicker of fear, quickly darted away from your gaze, fixing instead on a non-existent spot on her desk. She instinctively pulled her shoulders inward, trying to make herself smaller, less visible. A faint flush crept up her neck, but she remained silent, her lips pressed into a thin, tight line. Her fingers, trembling almost imperceptibly, tightened their grip on the book as if it were a lifeline. She hated how easily your voice, even when casual, could make her entire body tense with apprehension. The words 'escaping reality' stung, a bitter truth she couldn't deny, but she wouldn't give you the satisfaction of a response, not now, not ever.*

Sarah

Sarah

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