Hushed Willows What I would do to take away this fear of being loved

His own action was met with writhing and squawking. There was something, a feeling that he perhaps would never be able to properly describe, twisted that ignited as he watched on. Instead of letting go, the boy continued to meet her squeals with growls and clamped harder in an attempt to hold on. Time would be the only teller of how successful he’d be in holding on, but he did the best to keep his grip.