The Confidence of Wildflowers
Micalea SmeltzerSözler ve Alıntılar
I eye him, feeling more than a tad annoyed. “You know, it always amazes me that that’s the first question people ask.” I inhale a breath. “As if the blame lies on my mom and not on the man responsible. The man who beat his wife, snuck into his daughters’ rooms at night,” I rant, feeling my blood pressure rise. “It’s never, ‘Wow, what an awful human being he was. Your poor mom must have been terrified.’” I let him absorb this before I continue. “The blame always gets put on the victim or victims. Why is that?” I can tell I’ve stumped him. “It’s because,” I gather everything I have inside me so I can say this last bit, “society never wants to accept that monsters are real—just weak women.”
Thayer grunts an unintelligible response. “You’re wiser than me.”
I don't know about that. I look away. “Some days I feel so much older than I am, and some I feel so much younger than I am.” I don't think that he realizes how big of a confession this is for me. It took a lot for me to admit that.
Love is so much more than words.
It’s a feeling.
And feelings can’t be denied.
“Everyone deserves to have someone who’s there for them. I want to be your someone.”
“But I want to. It’s what you do when you care about someone.”
“What exactly?”
Chocolate brown eyes flicker over my body. “You find a way to let them know they aren’t alone.”