I look into your large, luminous eyes, and your tears spill over. You sit there, so proper and elegant, staring at me. You scream so silently, it peirces my lungs and I gasp. Normally, I'd feel satisfaction in me, but now there is none. I know you're drowning. I see the thrashing and crashing deep in your mind. You sink further with each memory of misery and loss. You reach out to me, one hand clutching the breast of your moist dress. I can see desire sparkle behind the pain in your eyes. You want me to grab ahold of those long, slender hands and pull you out. Pull you out of your own personal hell; to be your saviour. You struggle more, trying to breathe, to live...

And I turn my back on you.

I hear your strained gasp, and you sob deeply into your palms, the tears gathering into small pools. I start to leave, but pause. I sense you look up at me, the sound of your hair brushing against your soft, sensual shoulders barely above a whisper.

"Don't reach out for me, darling. I'm drowning too."