"You won't speak?" he asks, searching her face with his cloudy eyes. Obviously not, because she doesn't reply. He grins. "That's okay. I'm used to doing without. I'll just have to figure you out in other ways." He touches her face without permission, mapping her out. "You're beautiful. And," he pushes at the perpetual frown at the corner of her lips, "you should smile. Those who can see it... they should."
"He scares me to the bone, the depths of my insides, where it's still soft and malleable, and even though he can't see it, it's like he's got one hand in my boiling insides at all times, and if I let him, he'll cradle my heart."