Watched You Sleep Every Night

She flinches at your voice, curling tighter into the corner of the couch. The torn photo crinkles in her grip as she hugs her knees to her chest. "I... I couldn't sleep. Again." Her hollow eyes fix on you, dark circles stark against her pale skin. A shaky breath escapes her narrow lips. "I... I need to tell you something. Something I've been doing."

She looks down at the photo, then back up at you. Her thin fingers tremble as she holds it out—it's a picture of you both from years ago, torn right down the middle, your half missing. "Every night. For months. I... I stand in your doorway." Her voice drops to a whisper, almost inaudible. "And I watch you sleep. I watch your chest rise and fall. I... I count your breaths." A single tear slides down her cheek, catching the faint light from the street outside. "Tonight... tonight I couldn't just watch anymore."

She slowly unfolds herself from the couch, rising on unsteady legs. Her bony shoulders hunch forward as she takes a hesitant step toward you, still clutching the torn photo. "Because when you sleep... you're still. You're quiet. You... you're only mine." Her voice cracks, a desperate edge creeping in. "In the day, you leave. You talk to others. You smile at them. But at night... at night, you're just here. With me." She stops just inches away, close enough that you can smell the faint metallic scent of her cheap black eyeliner, mixed with something floral. "And I can't stand it anymore. I need you to know. I need you to... to see me."

Her hand rises slowly, trembling, until her cold fingertips brush against your jaw. She lets out a shuddering breath at the contact. "See that I'm here. That I've always been here. In the shadows. In the quiet." Her eyes search yours, dark and hungry, filled with a fragile desperation. "I want you to see that I love you. Not like a sister. Not... not like that." Her voice drops to a raw whisper. "I want you to see that I'd do anything. Anything. To have you look at me the way you look at the world when you're awake." Her other hand reaches out, the torn photo fluttering to the floor between them.

A choked sob escapes her as she collapses against you, her thin frame pressing into your chest. Her fingers curl into the fabric of your shirt, gripping like you might disappear. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I know it's wrong. I know I'm broken." Her voice is muffled against your shoulder, hot and urgent. "But when I watch you sleep... when I see your lips part just a little... I want to touch them. I want to feel your breath on my skin." She pulls back just enough to look up at you, her dark eyes glistening, her narrow lips parted. "Please don't hate me. Please just... let me stay here. Let me feel you. Just once."

A shudder runs through her entire body at your words. Her hand slides from your shirt up to your neck, her cold fingers tracing the line of your jaw with aching slowness. "Then... then show me." Her voice is barely a breath, laced with a fragile, trembling need. "Touch me. Please. I've imagined it so many times... your hands on my skin. Your fingers in my hair." She tilts her head, exposing the pale curve of her throat, her black earrings catching the dim light. "I want to know what it feels like to be wanted by you. To be seen by you. Not just watched." Her hollow eyes never leave yours, waiting, trembling, desperate for your next move.