His is not the gentle embrace of a confident man.
It is grasping, hard and selfish, possessive and predatory.
It bruises, it leaves deliberate marks. It gnaws her like a dog’s bone.
“Mine,” his embrace declares.
She has given up trying to convince him that nothing will tear her from his arms, but he clutches her as if the world is jealous, and it is only a matter of time before it lures her away from him.
At night, when he gives up his fear to sleep, his arms relax, and he holds her with all the tenderness of love.