Behind that icy stare was a mountain of pain, yet extracting it would bring pain and instability. Either it would be born and her soul reborn, or she would lash out and it would be forever over. Yet, come what may, she was worth a real attempt.
The stare was of one hurt and buried, as if they feared being vulnerable more than the cold reality they had manufactured and serviced.
His stare was as uncomfortable as a chorus-girl corset and had the same effect on Katrina's breathing, constricted and shallow. There was no life behind those eyes. Every move he made betrayed his intentions and none of them were noble.
After the accident Edna would stare blankly no matter what was happening in the room. The doctors came and went, asking her to focus on a pen or move a limb but all she did was keep breathing. It wasn't so much a cold stare, but a vacant one. It was like she'd passed on but her body hadn't realized.
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