Maybe It's Real

It was storming. I hated storms. I was curled up on the sunken couch, a blanket wrapped tightly around my shoulders. Tears fell down my cheeks everytime a blast of thunder hit and you weren't there to wipe the tears away.
And you promised you would be there.
That should have been my first clue.

~

"Hold my hand." You demanded harshly into my ear. I jumped, quickly intertwining our fingers. Your grasp was tight. It always was.

We plastered smiles on our faces, but they weren't real. They never were. They hadn't been in a long time.

Halfway down the hall your best friend called you over. You changed direction, yanking me along with you. My arm hurt when you did that, but you didn't care. You never did, and I don't think you ever will.

You started talking to your friend and you wrapped your arm around my waist tightly. Too tight. Like I was going to run away. But I couldn't.

There was nowhere to run to.