She’s struggling against my hold on her. She’s just as strong — we’re evenly matched but I’m on top, holding her back. She’s looking right back at me, wide-eyed, nervous, searching for any hint about what I’m going to do to her. But this poor girl can’t even look at me straight. I could see that slight tilt of her face, as if she could avoid any of this. All too familiar. She fights harder and manages to pull her right arm out from my left. (Eyes fixed on the blade,) she sweeps her bangs back over her eye and she relaxes her body. Relinquishment. We smile at each other. What a perfect reflection.
sometimes it's better to sing yourself to sleep