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drabble
The silence around her only makes the screaming in her head even louder.
She does her best to ignore the sounds, harsh male tones throwing insults at her, calling her pathetic and worthless and degrading her with nothing more than words which would be gibberish to anyone who spoke a language that wasn't hers. She tries hard to pretend that she doesn't hear shrill, hysterical shrieks punctuated by bouts of sobs and broken, half-whispered questions that make no sense unless you know what is being hinted at but never quite mentioned openly. She doesn't acknowledge the childish yell that cuts off so heart-stoppingly abruptly only to be replaced by the sounds of a struggle whose end is never revealed.
There's silence all around her but they're screaming in her head.
She does her best to ignore the sounds, harsh male tones throwing insults at her, calling her pathetic and worthless and degrading her with nothing more than words which would be gibberish to anyone who spoke a language that wasn't hers. She tries hard to pretend that she doesn't hear shrill, hysterical shrieks punctuated by bouts of sobs and broken, half-whispered questions that make no sense unless you know what is being hinted at but never quite mentioned openly. She doesn't acknowledge the childish yell that cuts off so heart-stoppingly abruptly only to be replaced by the sounds of a struggle whose end is never revealed.
There's silence all around her but they're screaming in her head.
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Speaking of which, remind me to tell you about the mental imagery of Bakura and Marik and the last song lyrics I wrote, okay?
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Song lyrics... and poetry. I used to do both of them so much...
Oh? *nods* Will do, I'll definetely try to remember to ask you.