Re: Marvel: Wren and "Brielle"
When the hand holding her wrist tightened, Wren couldn't help but drag in a breath, and there wasn't as much guilt there in her eyes, not just then. For a moment, it was easy to imagine a balisong between her fingers, flaying flesh. And maybe that was just old and shattered things belonging to the child she had been, the little girl who had let people do whatever they wanted to her. The girl without enough self-worth to ever say non. It flickered there, in the grey of her eyes, but she let Brielle turn her palm over.
She didn't like the concession in the other woman's voice. It licked at her insecurities, and it fed on her fears. It made her wonder if Luke had spoken to the other woman, it put shadows of doubt in the corners of her mind.
She wanted to be anywhere but there.
When the fingertips on her wrists went shackle tight, bruises that she hadn't asked for, it was instinct that made her cry out. She yanked hard at her hand. But the grip was strong, and Wren stood, that tether still connecting her to the woman who sat on the slide, the cousine who had lied and told secrets, and right then, with nails digging into her skin, that was all she remembered. "Non. I don't. You lied to me, and I won't ever forget. Let me go."
She yanked again, nails tearing at skin, but she didn't care; she wanted to be gone from there.