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The words felt like my head being split open and walked on. Crushed under the weight of an elephants foot and forced back together by hot sticky glue that didn’t give me a choice.
it leaked and leaked and it burned and scorched my skin, i hiss and yell and scream and bite in every direction but i can barely move it hurts so much. My mind isn’t one , it’s two, three. Seventeen.
It hurts. The glue hurts and does nothing against the damage, it probably just made more damage but the hand holding me doesn’t care about that. The hand inflicts damage as I do, violent, needed , red. Not a choice, not really. I don’t need a choice when it’s been made for me, the hand is nice enough, not hitting me not slapping me not hissing at me for every mistake — not anymore!
that was a different hand. Not this hand. Not my hand. A cold hand.
Like snow.
Snow. Snow…
The hand pulled at me and it stung against my open skull it felt open i felt pain but the hand did not tell me to.
It’s okay. Yes. It’s okay.
I can do this. There’s nothing to be worried about anyway, I am in good hands. Hands that know the best for me, the best choices for me, I do not know enough to make a good choice anyway. Their choice is always the best and their choice is my choice.
“Good morning Soldat.”
Those grey eyes are everything i need every decision i can’t make. yes. i am in good hands now.
“Ready to comply.”