[ the crushing tide of emotion hasn't stopped, not for a second, but the tears are dying down and god, she's getting a headache, but she's getting some of her wits back, too. the entire room feels blurred around her except for byerly, in perfect focus. she rubs her wrist, trying desperately to tease out truth from hope, but there's confirmation bias on every side. she wets her lips, tastes blood for the first time, puts the heel of her hand to her mouth. ]
What do you want from me? [ her voice is hurt, angry, hoarse from yelling, and adrenaline still pulses through her, the only thing keeping her up now. but the look she gives him is very odd. ] You came in here. What the hell do you want from me, Byerly?
[ not hope. don't let it be hope. i can't bear to hope again. she fights with herself, cyclically, because she cannot decide which is worse. and what she's done to him -- oh, god. for a sickening moment, she wishes he had forced himself on her, because if there was any hope to be had, any sliver of light, it might better have been concealed that way. ]
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What do you want from me? [ her voice is hurt, angry, hoarse from yelling, and adrenaline still pulses through her, the only thing keeping her up now. but the look she gives him is very odd. ] You came in here. What the hell do you want from me, Byerly?
[ not hope. don't let it be hope. i can't bear to hope again. she fights with herself, cyclically, because she cannot decide which is worse. and what she's done to him -- oh, god. for a sickening moment, she wishes he had forced himself on her, because if there was any hope to be had, any sliver of light, it might better have been concealed that way. ]