OPEN | prompt three | PAIN

[wrens]

prompt three | P A I N dressing-room style. start your own thread. tag others. wash, rinse, repeat. open to all.

 

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[piecemeal]

[ Klara's shoulders curl inward and she drops her gaze, shaking her head quickly. ]

No. No, no. [ And if they did, she wouldn't tell him. Klara's afraid what might happen to them. ] No one's been talking to me at all.

[barred]

[ An instant passes before Julie smiles, the expression a tremulous, hesitant thing. (That's the one thing he's never sure of: that he's happy. ]

And you'd tell me if they had?

[piecemeal]

[ Klara nods much to eagerly, her eyes much too large. She's lying to him and it's obvious. (They don't bother teaching things like wells how to lie.) ]

I would. I promise. I'd tell you everything.

[barred]

[ They don't bother teaching things like wells how to lie, and they don't bother teaching dogs like Julian how to recognize lies, either.

For a long moment, he simply stares at her, as if willing her words to be true, his tongue running a slow circuit around his lips. Finally, he nods. ]

Okay, [ he says. ] I trust you.

[piecemeal]

[ It startles her. (It always does.) The wariness and the fear tensing in her expression loosens only to give way to something like guilt. ]

—you do?

[barred]

[ His brow furrows, confusion flashing once across his face. (Why wouldn't I?) ]

More than anything, Klara.

[piecemeal]

[ There are times when Klara does not know which is worse — when Julian is being angry and forceful, or when he is being quiet and subdued. When he's the former, Julian hurts her, digs his fingers into her flesh and breathes hot breath against her face. When it's the later, she hurts Julian, with kindness, with lies, and her half-swallowed voice.

She lifts a hand to smooth his brow but then hesitates meekly. ]

That's too much, Julian. That's much too much.