Spookychild’s writings

But she couldn’t tell Blake; he was dangerous and sharp, like glass. He was a little like she was, only different, not patient, not kind, more volatile. She knew what she was up against, the emotions inside her head, living and marrying someone she didn’t love, and having a child who belonged to another. But he didn’t know everything he was fighting; his enemies were in his memory locked up in a disorder that left every day a challenge, living on the brink.
Today might be the day his sanity would slip; if she told him, he might go over the edge and kill himself. How could she do that to someone, no matter who? She couldn’t; it was all he had. He had stated a child was all he ever wanted. She was doing this in the first place, living this lie, to give him purpose to live. He had threatened suicide if it wasn’t his, and Lea had agreed to the lie.
Tears seeped through her closed eyes, and she opened them. Yellow sunlight was coming in the window, past the curtains. It was getting late. It was afternoon; how late was it now? 2:00 pm, 3:00 pm, It would be dark again soon. She had slept the day away, or she had tried too.
Soon night would come, and she would see Darren. She didn’t mind the oncoming darkness; she hated sunlight. It hurt her eyes. Let it be darkened forever. In the evening, Lea could hide. She didn’t mind winter or sleeping the daylight away. She would always work the night shift; the others didn’t want to.

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