Same Old Song And Dance

"Why do you care what others think of you?"

While the words are harsh, her eyes are not. Her face is merely curious, the harmless inquiry of a child. Even if she is an adult, you cannot see her ever harming you like the ones before have.

You lower your head, your fingers twisting, balling up your sweater until there's a fistful of fabric in your palm. Your hair falls into your eyes, your orange locks blocking out the light, hiding you from her gaze.

"I don't know." You tell her, and you sound so tired. More tired than you've ever heard yourself sound. Her fingers touch your face unexpectedly and you flinch as she brushes the hair away from your face with a warm touch.

"You're better now." She tells you, and her voice is firm. She believes in you. You don't know why. "You aren't going to harm me. You aren't going to harm Greggor. You aren't ever going to harm anyone, or be harmed by anyone, ever again. Okay?"

You want to believe her. You want to feel safe and stable; you want your delusions to disappear, to stop feeling like someone was watching you every time you passed by the trees. You want to melt into her so badly.

"I don't know if I can believe you." You tell her and slowly raise your gaze, your green eyes meeting her soft brown. She frowns at you in a way that isn't disappointed, but is tainted by worry.

"That's okay." She tells you in a quiet hush. "It's okay to not be okay."

You stand there as she embraces you, wishing that things could be like you thought they were when you were sixteen.