You’d wake up, if you ever went to sleep at all, and feel muscles scream and skin tight, red and swollen, around another scar in the making.
You’d say ‘Fuck. Another day.’ and in the same breath be thankful that last night wasn’t your last.
You’d stand in the shower until the water ran cold and wonder, “This can’t be my life. There’s more to it than this. Will it be worth it in the end?”
Times like these – the wind in your hair and his hand, warm and strong and so very real, in yours – you know it definitely was.
For The Save Jane Campaignę. Drabble + 1.