The Art of Growth

The Brink

Once upon a time, his touch used to comfort her in the dark. His whispers of sweet little nothings used to soothe her aching heart back into submission. His rough fingers used to breathe life into an otherwise motionless… And emotionless girl. 

Right on the brink of consciousness every night, hours before the alarm would buzz for a new morning, but hours after the house fell still would a tall and muscular man walk through the door wordlessly. Words were never needed for her to understand his true intent.

He would curl up spooning her thin and insecure body, running his old rough hands through her hair. He would whisper, hugging her, calming every inch of her body into submission. She would face the wall, closing her eyes slowly as every little piece of dignity was peeled right off of her fragile being.

Little did he know that every time he shed another layer of her dignity farther and farther into the wind did he lose a smaller part of her too… Until one day he did not just lose her. He lost a daughter too.

Special thanks to K, for finally being strong enough to take back her dignity.

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