catmiint's Literatures

“Do you hate yourself?” Valentina asked, her voice soft and gentle in the way one soothes cattle for slaughter.

Svetlana’s tongue felt heavy in her mouth, and it wasn’t because of the cloying richness of the cake she had taken a bite of. Her gaze didn’t lift to meet Valentina’s, instead resolutely looking at the cake in front of her. A chocolate crêpe cake with whipped cream and strawberries on top. The red was garishly bright against the backdrop of white and brown. She said nothing.

“Because sometimes I think I hate myself.”