Maybe for her it's the scent of cigarette smoke at night,
glowing lights, the feeling of stale breath down her neck, the crunch of a branch beneath her feet as you run as fast as you can away from him
Maybe for him it's water splashing your face,
the sting of salt in a cut, the feeling of blood trickling down your forehead, the harsh sound of a bone breaking, the scream of his brother, the fear of a worse tomorrow.
For them, maybe it's the feeling of a heart racing,
blood pounding in his ears, fear flashing in her eyes, the sting of glass on their faces, the crunch of a car flipped upside down, the fading lights on the street, the never ending blackness.
For her, it's the slipping of a hand in hers,
The drop in your stomach as you fall down, farther than you can imagine, clear glass floors shattering under too much weight, and screams echoing against deaf ears.
For me, it's waking up to an empty home,
the stench of burning flesh, ash and sparks, the slip of feet against wet ground, the push away from one you love, the feeling of falling and then a dull thud, empty blackness for eternity.