LITERATURE:
The woman ahead of her wore a dull bruise that was slapped against her cheek. It shouted at the mirror in sharp words that seemed to seap through her pale skin. Victoria conveyed a sense of despair as she held her breath. This was mundane, and soon enough, Brendon would troop in, infatuated with sorrow and pity. He interrupted her thoughts that scattered her head, with a hand that slid across her stomach. "I'm sorry." The words echoed through her head in consideration. "Are you?" Victoria questioned as she saw his beautiful eyebrows sink in a deep and angry fashion. "You know I am, Victoria;" Brendon started defending his actions. "you know how I am." He was almost pleading her approval. She turned, and at the same time Brendon forcefully pulled her against his bear chest. The kiss was beyond passionate. It held anger, regret, and love and expressed more than words, and more than the pictures they had earlier gazed at when they had felt love. Now they laugh in the face of the futile word that mocks their ambition. The same ambition that keeps them going, and whispers little words of hope and assurance in Victoria's credulous ears. He released his grip, as she backs up and tilts her head in amusement. This was someone she loved; she knew she felt it for him somewhere in her cold heart. He endured so much pain onto her, and dragged her into an endless sea of misery and hopelessness. Yet somehow, she still felt emotionally attached to him. He was the only one that stuck with Victoria, and part of her was inside of him. If she let him go, she let go part of herself, a big part which made up the the person she was today. Oh, how she fantasized about collapsing into nonexistence. As her thoughts slowly trickled out of her mouth, she found herself talking to Brendon in slow whispers, but only one word could escape. "Why?"
