Paper Cuts
Sometimes the poison is the antidote
Darla's hands wrapped around the ceramic of the mug, warmed by the hot cocoa within. She took a sip and watched as the windows shrunk, snow piling up inch by inch around the cabin. She hadn't been here for years - since her and Derek had first started dating, desperate to catch a few blissful days of solitude away from their nosy roommates. Back when they couldn't keep their hands off each other. When the "I love you"s dripped from their lips unconsciously. When each others' idiosyncrasies were charming, not grating. As the night fell and the snow continued to, Darla switched her childhood beverage for an adult one. The wine warmed her insides and blurred the edges between reality and fantasy. She found herself enamoured by the snow, thinking darkly of the icicles that had formed around her heart. The tiny paper cuts that they had scarred into each other after 12 years - to the point she had no choice to put her heart on ice as an act of self-preservation. To survive. She couldn't pinpoint the moment she decided to venture into the depths of the night, but as she came to her senses and tried to navigate back to the cabin, she realised she was lost. After some time, she fell to the ground, defeated. Yet, when she came to, back at the cabin - warm, thawed; she felt whole again. And there he was - her saviour. Derek had brought her back to life.
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Shackabomble
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Comments (1)
Well written! Great work!