[Annette had come in quietly at some point, face red and puffy from crying, and had somewhat shyly found a spot for herself to sit and listen, head bowed. It isn't until this point in the conversation that she seems to find something to say.]
I feel a horrible sense of foreboding. It's a frightening responsibility, to hold something so important for another person, knowing that it might not be a kindness to return it...or to have your own returned to you.
No, no...I feel that whatever part of me is missing, I must have it back.
[She puts her hands over her stomach. It feels like there's a hole inside of her, somehow, where some other person's secret has been haphazardly jammed inside--an ill fit. Annette can only be sure of one thing: knowledge is a burden.]
I only worry how badly it's going to hurt for so many of us.
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I feel a horrible sense of foreboding. It's a frightening responsibility, to hold something so important for another person, knowing that it might not be a kindness to return it...or to have your own returned to you.
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I suppose past some of the more notable trappings, it is quite the gilded cage.
[ Maybe she should take notes? ]
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[She puts her hands over her stomach. It feels like there's a hole inside of her, somehow, where some other person's secret has been haphazardly jammed inside--an ill fit. Annette can only be sure of one thing: knowledge is a burden.]
I only worry how badly it's going to hurt for so many of us.
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... Do you think some people might figure out whose secret they hold, or who holds their own secret in turn...
And not ♡
give ♡
it back?
[ Out of misplaced compassion or otherwise. ]