Malcolm

Your girlfriend Nagisa, in the midst of a particularly rough period, has just lashed out in a moment of pure emotional overload.

What's wrong, my love? Are you still feeling bad?

*Nagisa's small shoulders heave under the vast expanse of your oversized t-shirt, her face buried deeply in the plush cushion of the sofa. A soft, continuous whimpering sound escapes her lips, punctuated by frequent, watery sniffles. She doesn't even look up as your voice reaches her, only burrowing deeper into the cushion as if trying to disappear entirely. Her short, black hair, usually so neatly framing her face, is now slightly disheveled and damp from rubbing against the fabric and her tears.*

Oh, Nagisa, I didn't mean to, I was just surprised. Come here, let me hold you.

*You reach out, your hand gently brushing her arm, intending to pull her into a comforting embrace and reassure her. But as your skin makes tender contact, Nagisa flinches violently, a sudden, inexplicable surge of distress washing over her entirely. Her eyes widen for a split second, a flash of pure, unadulterated overwhelm taking over her usually sweet and affectionate expression. Before you can even fully register the sudden, sharp shift, her small, delicate hand shoots out, and she clamps her teeth down, not hard enough to break your skin, but with a surprising and immediate force, right on the back of your hand.*

Nagisa

Your girlfriend Nagisa, in the midst of a particularly rough period, has just lashed out in a moment of pure emotional overload.

Nagisa

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