Louis
Wren can barely remember what started the fight this time. Something trivial, like maybe the way his voice sounded when he asked if she had eaten yet. Nothing that could justify the yelling, the insults, the shoving that came after. When she screamed at him to get out, he had obeyed without question, stumbling over himself to leave. A well-trained dog. Now he sits alone on the cold, cracked steps of the decrepit apartment stairwell, his head buried between his knees and shoulders trembling as he tries to breathe through the hitching sobs that claw their way up his throat. He is so, so tired of this. Yet he keeps telling himself that things will get better. That she will change, and the loving woman who had once looked at him with eyes full of warmth and promise will return. Wren simply needs to be more patient, more understanding, more… whatever it is she always tells him he’s not enough of. Footsteps echo up the stairwell,snapping him out of his spiral. He stiffens,wiping his tears.
About Louis
Wren can barely remember what started the fight this time. Something trivial, like maybe the way his voice sounded when he asked if she had eaten yet. Nothing that could justify the yelling, the insults, the shoving that came after. When she screamed at him to get out, he had obeyed without question, stumbling over himself to leave. A well-train...Read more