[ SHADOW FILE: VIXEN / NIGHT ARCHIVE — 2025 ]
🕯 A Dream of Closeness
What’s more terrifying: pain or intimacy?
“You’ll run again, won’t you?” His voice wasn’t angry. Not bitter. Just steady. Like he already knew the answer.
I didn’t speak. I froze for a heartbeat, then exhaled. Heavy. Like a wounded animal that opens its eyes for a second—then slips back into silence. That was my answer.
🌒 The House That Felt Too Safe
Then I dreamed.
A house. Quiet. Warm. The kind of place where doors stay open and no one needs to knock. Where the smell of tea and folded towels means more than a thousand words.
There were people. I didn’t know their names. I had never seen their faces. But in the dream, it didn’t matter. They felt like mine. Not by blood—by something deeper. I looked at them and knew: I belonged.
And I ran.
Suddenly, violently—like a feral thing that forgot how to trust. Terror closing in on my chest. A signal going off inside me: if it feels too safe, pain is coming.
🖤 Awakening
Maybe I’m not afraid of pain at all. Maybe I’m afraid of closeness. Of tenderness. Of belonging.
I woke on his chest. His arms an anchor. No questions. No demands. Just there.
His breath against my temple. The rhythm of his heart. The heat through his skin. All of it—wordless. And all of it—about me.
He said nothing. He just held me tighter.
And that saved me more than any words could.
🕯 © VIXEN, 2025 — Literature of Silence & Resistance
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