Blade of Secrets

We could meet up for dinner again.”

May I ask why?”

A pit of longing rests in my gut.

It’s not that I don’t want to connect with people. I desperately do, but even more than that, I want to feel safe.

She sighs in response.

“It’s not a party. I was assured it would be a quaint dinner affair.”

I place my hands atop the table in front of me and twist my fingers together, a habit I’ve had since childhood

I don’t like feeling as if people are staring at me, and it’s a sensation I can’t shake off when my back is exposed to a large space

But me? I’ve been providing for us since I was twelve. I often wonder if spending so much of my formative years locked in a forge somehow made me fearful of everything else. At eighteen, I hate to leave the house and be around people.

But more often than not, she is the one saving me.