kaira astor
I tremble as my fingers find the hem of my black shirt, and I roll my hand into the material, knotting it up into a fist. Rapid, burning emotions choke me, suffocating me. My head is pounding as white dots appear in my vision and I hastily blink them away, my breathing turning ragged as I press my palm into the stone beneath me, wrapping my hand around the edge. Control. Control. Control. The blistering voice inside my head isn’t mine, no, it’s more familiar than my own. Control your thoughts! He demands, a sneer in his tone.
I dip my head, my chin resting against my chest as the whirlwind of emotions simmer in my bone, my teeth clenching. Rooting a thought in my mind has always been suffering, not knowing which are mine, and which are still the aftermath of diving into some
