Moving forward? It sounded nice, it sounded clean and fresh, a more stable path to go along together, step by step. It scared her though, that they were looking at their future with rose tinted glasses and didn't see the pain that they'd both end up causing each other. She was amazed they'd gone a year without doing worse to each other, if she were honest.
Luckily, she hadn't had nightmares in years. The last time had been long before she'd even met this man and she had thought the feeling long in her past but here it was again, rearing its head like an ugly stag with blood on its horns, ready to rip her apart. What if the next time was worse? She hoped they'd never come to that bridge.
"I'm not a victim, Hemingway, I wanna get that fucking straight," she said, trying to convince them both. "Okay? I was, I admit, I was a victim and played that role to death before I realised nothing and nobody was going to erase that part of me. I know it's nothing in comparison to what you went through but everyone has shit they have to deal with. This is my shit."
Looking down at his espoused declarations, she tried to convince herself that he wasn't going to run from her like she was a time bomb. "I know, I know. You don't have to apologise. I think this was always coming," she took a breath and caught his eye before slipping down into his lap like a scared child. "I do love you. I've just... never done this part before. Usually people leave at this point. I'm lost."