Thread: Such A Nonsensical Thing, Little Girls (PocketFullOfPosies)

More like a monster His grip upon her fragile young wrist seemed more like needles piercing into her flesh, though he had no jagged nails to speak of, the force of his fingertips buried into the flesh..almost touching the bone in fact, already seemed to call forth a bracelet of bruises upon her fair skin. She squirmed, which was naturally to be expected. Her elbow twisting, hoping to dislodge herself from his vicious grip. Those pretty eyes dimmed of all their light, replaced with a trembling distress. He jerked, and she stumbled forth over those scuffy boots, the curve of her form pressed against her Uncles side as the books she had tucked against herself went tumbling down in different directions. Lydia made no action to catch them, nor reaction to the rather loudy clattering the first novel made whilst toppling down the staircase. Her eyes watched those pages flip and flutter in the air howeverit felt like her own spine bouncing against the edges of the steps Those soft lips quivered, before those wide dark eyes returned their focus upon her Let go! She tugged back pitifully, with as much strength as the breeze in ones hair on a summer afternoon. Albeit, even summer breezes could turn into perilous storms without warning. As she was pulled and twisted about, Lydia seemed to.. hiss in her dismay. She stepped, hard, upon her Uncles shoe which seemed to have backfired ever so slightly, for she was immediately sent over his knee. Petticoats, curls and lace fluffing everywhere behind her no doubt.. Perhaps there had been a spring in his shoe which had launched her forth with such an unexpected force. The moment the good Doctors hands seized those golden locks upon his nieces head, her dainty little fingers began clawing at his wrists. Her lithe little body squirming and kicking about, hopping to jostle herself off of his lap with enough leverage that she could make a quick dash down the stairs and off to another hiding sp-- Upon that first blow, the balls of her feet dug down into the floor, ceasing their flailing assault upon the air. Her fingers mimicked his force upon her wrist onto his own, digging down into his flesh..but with nails cut jagged from a little girls nibbling. She gasped, audibly, her knees tucking beneath his thigh as though it may help cover herself from the next blow.or the nextor the next. Whimpers. Pathetic sharply drawn inhales and stammered exhales came rapidly with those strikes that had almost instantly begun turning that porcelain white skin the rosey shade of the blush that had been set out for supper that evening. Her knees buckled, pressing against one another as she bit down upon her lip, squinting her eyes as if combating with herself to not sob, to not give him the pleasure of her tears. Monsters thrived off the tears of little girls. There is nothing wrong with my head! She defended loudly, Perhaps there is something wrong with your head Doctor ! Oh the word was not merely laced, but saturated with spiteful poison.. Dripping it seemed from her lips with the complete and utter opposite of the cheer she had whispered Uncle, with, not moments ago. How a little girl who seemed so insatiably bubbly seconds ago, could muster up such malice was rather monstrous in itself Perhaps monstrosity was a family trait