[It starts out with a chill. Fukawa's biting her lip near to bleeding and it's only the first line.
Because she does know what they say. There's tomes upon tomes about love gone sour, and it's usually the woman that's left kissing dirt.
Men rarely laid hands on Fukawa. They couldn't stand to, mostly. Instead it was her mothers that taught her of love's cruelties. They introduced her to the sting of knuckles, piercing shrieks. The kiss of darkness in a locked closet, days on end without food. Growing fetid, growing weaker, growing ever more sorry for living. Neither could forgive her for it; Fukawa was a flesh-bound reminder that the man they shared was a philandering shit.
She feels wretched reading this. She feels sorry for asking.
Then she gets further and suddenly the bottom drops out of her. Suddenly she doesn't feel so sorry at all. Sweet Oliver?]
1/2 cw: child/domestic abuse
Because she does know what they say. There's tomes upon tomes about love gone sour, and it's usually the woman that's left kissing dirt.
Men rarely laid hands on Fukawa. They couldn't stand to, mostly. Instead it was her mothers that taught her of love's cruelties. They introduced her to the sting of knuckles, piercing shrieks. The kiss of darkness in a locked closet, days on end without food. Growing fetid, growing weaker, growing ever more sorry for living. Neither could forgive her for it; Fukawa was a flesh-bound reminder that the man they shared was a philandering shit.
She feels wretched reading this. She feels sorry for asking.
Then she gets further and suddenly the bottom drops out of her. Suddenly she doesn't feel so sorry at all. Sweet Oliver?]