Post by lyingunderoath on Nov 18, 2010 7:54:40 GMT -5
Wrath, If he was five years older she'd say he was likely old enough to be her father....and that's a nasty thought, so she stopped.
"Someone must have hurt you really badly in your past. What happened?" He prodded. This annoyed her--the emotional analysis was very much unwelcome.
This wasn't the first time she heard such a statement by 'stupid people'. Of course, by stupid people, she meant the rest of the known universe.
She stared back, more or less ignoring such a question.
"You're spoiled, selfish, and childish." He stated, not taking her response or lack of all too well.
This is a game. She thought--it had to be, her deluded mind was unable to comprehend why he'd think something like that, why anyone would think that.
Her cheek burned from where he slapped her earlier during an argument, and probably would bruise. It was terribly embarrassing to her, the way it made her eyes water, the tightness she felt as the side of her face began to swell.
He raised his hand upward to press his index finger to her new injury, not once, but twice, potentially doing more harm.
There was no 'appropriate' reaction from her, instead she resorted to ignoring it. She could always think of something worse that could happen, so decidedly she wouldn't embarrass herself further by crying over it.
Ignore it. She told herself, and stepped away from him, attempting to divert his attention.
"I don't really even know anything about you, Wrath? Not even your favorite color...say, what is your favorite color?"
Good. Ask questions, try to seem interested, people like to talk about themselves.
He followed her, reaching out to her again. The plan went unsuccessfully.
"There is something really wrong with you." He stated plainly as she continued to pace a small circle.
"Wrong with me? You can't even look after some stupid boy barely out of his teenage years. You're a failure, you're too much of a coward to gain any amount of his respect without lying to him." She snapped, deliberately hurtful in return.
His fists grew tense, threatening to strike her again.
Perfect. She thought. That'll keep him from carrying on with his touchy-feely Salandrian therapy crap.
"Someone must have hurt you really badly in your past. What happened?" He prodded. This annoyed her--the emotional analysis was very much unwelcome.
This wasn't the first time she heard such a statement by 'stupid people'. Of course, by stupid people, she meant the rest of the known universe.
She stared back, more or less ignoring such a question.
"You're spoiled, selfish, and childish." He stated, not taking her response or lack of all too well.
This is a game. She thought--it had to be, her deluded mind was unable to comprehend why he'd think something like that, why anyone would think that.
Her cheek burned from where he slapped her earlier during an argument, and probably would bruise. It was terribly embarrassing to her, the way it made her eyes water, the tightness she felt as the side of her face began to swell.
He raised his hand upward to press his index finger to her new injury, not once, but twice, potentially doing more harm.
There was no 'appropriate' reaction from her, instead she resorted to ignoring it. She could always think of something worse that could happen, so decidedly she wouldn't embarrass herself further by crying over it.
Ignore it. She told herself, and stepped away from him, attempting to divert his attention.
"I don't really even know anything about you, Wrath? Not even your favorite color...say, what is your favorite color?"
Good. Ask questions, try to seem interested, people like to talk about themselves.
He followed her, reaching out to her again. The plan went unsuccessfully.
"There is something really wrong with you." He stated plainly as she continued to pace a small circle.
"Wrong with me? You can't even look after some stupid boy barely out of his teenage years. You're a failure, you're too much of a coward to gain any amount of his respect without lying to him." She snapped, deliberately hurtful in return.
His fists grew tense, threatening to strike her again.
Perfect. She thought. That'll keep him from carrying on with his touchy-feely Salandrian therapy crap.