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  • Writer's pictureHaemlet

Flailing Arms, Quiet Surrender

Her game was finally over.

She was not the kind of person who'd let people in. She'd pretend, she'd smile and she'd put on a show of strength to hide every emotion. But for the first time, she had opened up her heart - to him. For the first time she had let someone into her mind.

Around him, all her facade was futile. He saw right through her smile, and caught her moist eyes. He never said a word, he never offered help, but he always stood by, playing along as she tried hard to hide. almost like an adult indulging a child with a game of peek a boo.

I can manage on my own, she'd say. Of course you can, he'd answer. But I'm here just in case. And that made her heart rise. That made her trust him. Trust him enough to even show her tears.

It just flowed. Her past. Her struggles. how she had made it through and how she had withstood those who tried taking advantage of her. She was a strong woman, this one. But he was no fool.

He knew that the world had made her lock up her gentleness. There was a soft spoken maiden under those determined eyes. And he resolved to set her free.

He heard her stories of betrayal. Her stories of abuse. No wonder she had lost trust.

And all through, he just held her. No words were needed. Words would only make it frivolous. Words would only bring sympathy. She didn't need sympathy. She deserved care. Trust. Love.

And he'd give her that. Even if she fought him off. Even if she pushed him away. Because those were just her reflexes. Her battle scars.

He was determined to heal them. And his determination was what she needed more than anything. Ever.

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