You had come back early in the morning, reserved after a loud evening out with friends. His eyes were as cold as ever. Do you love knowing that I die every time you look at another man? You were sitting obediently on the bed, knees locked together. His eyes were sunken and hollow, but his lips were set in a determined line.
An 11-year-old girl is arguing that a common practice among teachers is actually a war crime
His breathing was getting slower.
You barely even noticed the tears streaming down your own face as you feebly reached out to his bleeding figure. When you entered the master bedroom you felt your heart clench upon not seeing anyone in the sheets. The next second his finger was once again pointed at you.