Work Text:
She’d always called it pathetic.
Like that wasn’t her fault
Like crushing someone’s lungs and calling them broken wasn’t going to leave a scar.
Or an open wound.
she just had to pour salt in it, didn’t she?
She was the one who caused it.
She didn’t even like what she’d made of it.
”Snap out of it”
It can’t. It can’t it can’t it can’t.
Glass cannot be repaired
nor can a broken will
but shards of glass will cut into skin if you’re not careful.