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i will not be saved


“what the hell was that back there?” he asks, the gentleness gone so fast i might have imagined it.

“what was what?” i ask, keeping my voice even, unassuming. my hands betray me, twisting together, fingers squeezing, nails digging into my palm against my will.

“that. you, acting like- like you can’t talk for yourself, like you can’t do anything without his say so. him, acting like he owns you-” his voice is full of disbelief, and i snort, taking a terrible pleasure in it.

“how is that funny?"

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