FIFTY TWO | Just A Replacement

[ZARINA]

I run.

I run until my chest hurts and my leg burns.

I run until my vision blurs and my head spins.

I don’t turn or scream or cry for help.

I run until something clasps around my wrist and yanks me back with force, it sends me flying back into someone’s warm arms.

“What the fuck happened, Zarina? What the fuck?”

I hear but I don’t understand. I hear, but I don’t hear at all. My heartbeat is too brash in my ears, too strong and reckless against my rib cage.

I see him. I see his eyes. The confusion, the anger, the fear, and the anxiety behind them all are what I see. They whirl in his coffee eyes like the most destructive tempest, they melt in the way his arms tighten protectively around my frame, liquefying as warm and comforting whispers in my ears.

“Sh-she is here!” I say pathetically, trembling like a bloody leaf. “She is here!”

“Who is here?” he asks urgently, shooting his gaze everywhere around them. “Who is she?”

“That woman,” my voice breaks, but I gather up the courage