The way you wound and injure others, then make such a bizarre rational to 'explain' it - you have surrendered yourself to your inner evil wolf. And though we are built to mirror those around us, to respond to the environment in kind, I am better than that. I am my inner good wolf. I feed my good self. In that nobody has a say but me.
It is not the wound to my flesh that is my highest concern yet the injury to my brain, to the way I see the world and perceive others.
The wounds, the injuries, they have a way of boosting the most primitive parts of me and silencing the best. I am a stubborn one. Stubborn in all the best ways. I develop me. I say who I become. And so thought I still feel the healing process, I remain brave, loving and kind.
The wound, the injury to my flesh will heal long before I am able to heal my brain. Trauma is that way. Yet with time, with someone good to talk to, I will be well once more.
In the light that flows water-like through the windows of the old bank I strip off my topmost layer. On each arm there are great purple welts that will only deepen over the coming week. Against my ghostly skin they are grotesque, but I know I am lucky not to have broken bones - then what would I do? I sigh and reach for my long sleeved top again. I look as beat up as I did in my early days of training, sparring with guys two heads taller and over twice my mass. At least they didn't go for my face, I don't need to be walking about looking like I came off worse in a fight. They aren't to know I dispatched three would be gang members in some stupid initiation ambush. I suck in a deep breath, it's been a helluva weird day.
Found in Darwin's Ghost - first draft, authored by daisy.
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