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virtuous wounds

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rachel loved that man from the moment she met him; a bold, determined,
kindred soul, hurting and wounded there in her arms, his pride damaged
but his thoughts secure. and she could feel it, feel it there in his heaving
breaths, see it there in his eyes- his wide, wonderful, raptured eyes- that
passion bled out of him as if his very heart had been cut wide open. the first
two years went by in a blur of innocent ecstasy, minds full of sweet nothings
and i love you's and you're the one thing keeping me sane in this hellish world

but the whispers caught up to her, the taunts and the insults, and the wounds
were ruthless. her husband made certain to fight back, to take offence and to
take a stand, against anything that could harm his rachel. she was grateful,
so grateful, grateful beyond measure for him, him, him- but unlike her husband,
she couldn't just ignore the hatred, she couldn't just hit back all the time, assert
herself as fully as she wanted to. so she doused herself in metaphorical ether and
waited for the numb to kick in

he loved her, loved her till the day she left, loved her as she ascended, striding the blast
an angel in lace and linen, bleeding out, bleeding metaphorically, bleeding love