Aida Zabidi
She hated the way her voice was shaking. 

“Don’t push me away – please.” 

He always had these cycles, moments where he would retreat into that dark place in his head where he kept in the company of his demons. It seemed like a futile exercise trying to break through the barriers he had set up to prevent others from She hated seeing him like that, hated the fact that she knew he was in pain. 

“I don’t want to think,” he said, in the same flat, lifeless tone that he had whenever he faced that brick wall. 

She pushed back the panic. “Don’t shut me out. You know I care. Tell me what I can do.” 

“I don’t know.” 

He paused again. She knew he was trying, attempting to connect with her in a way he was emotionally unable to at the moment, trying to push through the barriers that he had built. 

“It’s helps – you just being there. Just be there.” 

And so they lay down in darkness, holding hands, as she prayed that her presence could somehow keep his demons at bay. 

They would make it through this cycle. And perhaps tomorrow would be a better day.
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