( Tough love isn't welcome. Rounding the front of him, Chloe looks at him through narrowed eyes. Mouth turned downwards, she looks like she doesn't know whether to sob or scream in his face. Or both. )
It isn't your decision. This isn't your place. This isn't yours.
( That what happens, isn't it? Decisions are made for her. The illusion of choice. This dress, that jewellery. Doesn't matter when she's always told where to stand or sit in all her finery. Meaningless decisions to be made so she feels like she has some tiny semblance of control over anything. Like she's involved in what happens to her.
There is no exit for her. If she knows anything at all, she knows that much. One doesn't pour themselves into creating the perfect partner to then let it go.
What Chloe doesn't realise as she continues to glare at him is that she's been walking backwards towards the glow she wants to shrink away from. Claims she wants to keep away from. It's only when she's bathed in the scarlet light that she turns around to face the wall. )
...I can't.
( Better the devil you know. That's how the saying goes. A hurting heart must be better than none at all. Better for it to bleed than be consumed with bitterness. When all is said and done, it's one of the things she fears most. No longer being his may mean not being herself. Being anything at all. If she lets herself feel everything she's denied, choked down, what then? What does 'Chloe' become? Is it still 'Chloe' at all?
How far would a man go to keep his prized possession?
If it's no longer his possession, would it matter if it's destroyed?
no subject
It isn't your decision. This isn't your place. This isn't yours.
( That what happens, isn't it? Decisions are made for her. The illusion of choice. This dress, that jewellery. Doesn't matter when she's always told where to stand or sit in all her finery. Meaningless decisions to be made so she feels like she has some tiny semblance of control over anything. Like she's involved in what happens to her.
There is no exit for her. If she knows anything at all, she knows that much. One doesn't pour themselves into creating the perfect partner to then let it go.
What Chloe doesn't realise as she continues to glare at him is that she's been walking backwards towards the glow she wants to shrink away from. Claims she wants to keep away from. It's only when she's bathed in the scarlet light that she turns around to face the wall. )
...I can't.
( Better the devil you know. That's how the saying goes. A hurting heart must be better than none at all. Better for it to bleed than be consumed with bitterness. When all is said and done, it's one of the things she fears most. No longer being his may mean not being herself. Being anything at all. If she lets herself feel everything she's denied, choked down, what then? What does 'Chloe' become? Is it still 'Chloe' at all?
How far would a man go to keep his prized possession?
If it's no longer his possession, would it matter if it's destroyed?
Would it be deserving of destruction?
How far can a man go if he feels he is justified?
Is being gone the same as being free? )