writere.

Hiya! I definitely don’t remember doing something like this (maybe the love potion/spell story?), but I’d be happy to write this haha.

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Pacing in the kitchen, Lover bit her nails until her teeth met skin. A few fingertips bled and even then, she continued to chow down on the dead skin surrounding her short nails. She didn’t know what else to do with her hands; they were shaking, and they wouldn’t stop.

The news still played in the background. Lover considered time and time again to turn it off, but she couldn’t because moving on would be easier if she turned it off. This wasn’t something to be ignored. Not at all. But at the same time, when she deliberately thought of it, she nearly ripped her hair out.

Where was she supposed to go? She couldn’t just up and leave, could she? That was a mean thing to do and her- her husband was…Lover looked at the tv again. The same image was on the screen- blurred from a clip of action, but no less recognizable. The masked villain- now unmasked for the first time ever- was, without a doubt, Lover’s significant other. What would he do to her if she left?

But she was running out of time. She didn’t know that for sure, but if she were a villain- or hero, or anyone who needed to hide her identity- and her face was realized, she would haul ass back home, or- or anywhere where she wouldn’t be known. So, maybe Villain wouldn’t come home at all. Maybe her internal conflict was pointless for this very time being, but…if he did come home and she wasn’t gone, she’d be trapped. And if he did come home and she was gone, she’d be likely hunted. Right? Isn’t that what happened in the movies? Or books? Or…well, Lover hadn’t really seen this scenario if she was honest.

Lover liked to watch the ditzy princess movies. She even had a magazine subscription to “Royals Suggest…”, a collection of fashion statement clothing worn by royalty around the world, all too expensive for Lover to ever buy, but she enjoyed looking. This. This is what Lover knew; a bunch of too-expensive designer clothing brand names. She didn’t know what to do when her husband was a madman who destroyed cities just to listen to their screams. Or what to do when-

A door clicked open and Lover’s eyes went wide. She let her bloodied fingers drop to her sides, then thought better of it and hid them behind her back. Maybe she should have grabbed a knife.