It’s been some months since I wrote this scene. What do you all think? Is it worth trying to write the rest of the story? Do you think the speaker is a male or a female? What age?
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I slammed my fist onto the table, rattling the pens and books. The force of flesh to wood hurt and I pulled back, cradling my hand against my chest.
Tears stung my eyes as I bit my lip, but it wasn’t the pain in my hand that caused the tears. I swallowed, determine not to let my emotional display progress in any way.
Tears are worthless. Don’t. It won’t do any good. You’ll only look like a fool.
I closed my eyes, trying to take deep breaths. It wasn’t easy. A tear managed to escape, slipping through my lashes and down my cheek.
I won’t – I can’t cry. It won’t make any difference. It won’t help anything! Tears are useless.
How many times had I told myself the same thing over the years? It usually worked. I could pull myself together. Until the next time.
To the KING be all the glory!