Walls.
My fingers brush against them, my back pressing against them, nails scratching them relentlessly until they bleed from the friction.
Darkness.
Filling every corner. Every space. Forbidding light from ever coming.
A scream.
Coming from my own lips. Begging for someone to hear. To help.
Hands.
Gripping my wrists, flattening out my own bloody ones and encasing them in their own.
Lips. Pressing to mine, silencing my cries.
Arms. Wrapping around me, pulling me against a warm body.
Tears. Slipping between our dry lips, wetting them.
My love has come to rescue me.
