How could it possibly have gotten worse. HOW DOES IT ALWAYS GET WORSE I felt the wet streaks of tears down my cheeks. I've had others look down on me for crying, I've had some admire me for it. Crying just is, and always has been ritual response to pain. I feel the bruises throbbing. I could feel cuts, nicks, burns....some of the body. Some of my soul... I know broken. For I have been broken many times. Knotted up like a pretzel with heartache so real you can feel the throbbing. This is torture. What they're doing to me is torture.
But it can't hold a candle to what I did. What did I do? I forgot. I must keep forgetting, must....protect myself... The tears continue falling. Its like a blackness begins as a tiny patch of rot in your heart, it pulses outward like a growing flame, until it feels like your nothing but a shell. I went through hell. I went through hell again. I keep managing somehow, impossibly, to fit myself back together. But each versionis a little more broken....I....I...what was I just...thinking...I know I'm losing this fight. But I pretend I'll survive. I'm good at pretending.
I'm in hell again. Its a different hell. Not in my mind, not filling me with cracks of my own creation. No this is the work of others who force their way into me with tools not meant to create. I huddle against the wall. I feel the cold stone. It's nice to feel something real, solid. But what if it swallows me up...?I wish it would....The white coat lunges towards me again, they stab me with the freezing hot metal rod. I feel a jolt of icy fresh burning shadow. Like the sound your heart makes when it realizes tragedy. "Subject still reacts to pain, but does not resist as strongly. No real results as per the hypothesis that one can become immune to the elements if exposed enough."
I continue to cry. All of this is so confusing...So confusing it hurt. So much to wrap my rotting brain around. I did something a long time ago. It wasn't my fault. It was like this. It was being forced into a corner. But back then I used to fight. No NO don't think about it-Don't think about it- Don't you dare remember, you promised, you know, I-we? I. I know I can't handle this. Turns out not only can not fighting hurt you, but you can also fight too hard. I hurt them-I I...I....I....I.... I hurt them like they had hurt me. And more. They named me Bright. But I know nothing but the dark. The dark is my friend. I'm in so deep, its easier to swim down now. I swam a long long way.
My body is a tight knotted ball. I convulse with sobs and gasps. "Return subject to cell, bunk with another test so we can see the results of social interaction after extreme stress. Proceed and record responses." I feel their too clean hooves trying to roll me over or lift my limp body. They aren't really clean. They stink of scrubbing. Nothing can cleanse the deeds you're doing...why would anyone do something like this....Why did I.....NO DON'T THINK ABOUT IT...PLEASE.... They can't pry my clamped ball apart. So magic envelops me. Magic is unfair. Its a vehicle for things best left buried. I still don't uncurl. My wings hurt. My wings always hurt. I...hurt.
Yes. I swam down. So far down to protect myself. How could I ever return to light after what I have felt. Pain so tragic that words don't describe. They hurt me. So I hurt them. But hurting them, only hurt more. I couldn't live with it, I couldn't survive it. So I buried the pain. I buried the agony. I swam down and away from it. Drowning myself under miles and miles of silence. But not even here can I escape. They found me. Someone always finds you. Others would tell me things. Others would say it was right or wrong. But they don't know. They weren't ever there.
I'm still shaking.
The gravity of emotion pulls me down.I can't think these thoughts...please...I can't relive this...Please GOD or whatever deity exists out there....sweet Celestia and your blinding light....let me die...let me slip away and escape this hell...
They stop caring eventually. They send me away to creatures who care less. The words get harsher. The help gets....darker. Until you end up in places like this. Where your pain becomes your value. And what's the point of running when the pain rides your back. They torture me here. And it destroys me. But that small bit deep down in what's left of my soul, is grateful for a real physical pain. To distract me from the agony my mind plays over and over. The pulsing dark in my heart.
The magic puts me down. I have not heard a creak or a clopping of hooves. I have not smelled the scent of cold acid water. For I have been lost in the dark recesses of the underground, the colossal caves of my thoughts. I am set down on the mattress. I know they leave. They always leave. Everyone leaves.