she’s crying and he’s soothing her, telling her to take her time, tucking her in, not getting in with her, pulling the weighted blanket over her, it feels so nice to be fussed over she’s resisting knowing how much this is his fault. this is a very useful thing for her to forget, bc if she takes as long as she can to slowly figure that out & come to terms with it, that’s time she doesn’t have to spend on noticing how much is her fault. the system wants to preserve itself. the tangle wants to stay tangled. she thinks she’ll cry forever, and she does, and it only takes twenty minutes. efficient.
there are two kinds of vampire women. the first type is the kind that anyone with a functioning sense of shame can tell: oh, if she gets a chance she’ll stick the pointy end of a straw into my elbow vein & sip my blood till i’m sort of gurgling & rattling around like an empty capri sun pouch. she openly plays for whatever she can get. the second kind is fastidious, diffident, restrained. she turns up her nose at sources of validation that make the first vampire woman drool a little venom from her fangs. it almost seems like she doesn’t need a thing. but when she finally bites she’s like a remora. maybe she wouldn’t have needed to empty you so totally if she had been less picky.