[ nothing from him when she begins, no sound or resistance (can't resist), just his head hanging low. but the more she carves into his forearms, the more he reacts in hissed sips of air, fingers twitching where they're allowed, until, eventually, his face contorts beneath the fall of his bangs, and he starts screaming again.
he doesn't know how long it takes. he loses track of time. there's no stopping this. he can't stop this. ]
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he doesn't know how long it takes. he loses track of time. there's no stopping this. he can't stop this. ]