It Isn’t Right To Wish Pain On

What Is It With You Today?” Says Christina On The Way To Breakfast. Her Eyes Are Still Swollen From Sleep And Her Tangled Hair Forms A Fuzzy Halo Around Her Face. “oh, You Know,” I Say. “sun Shining. Birds Chirping.” She Raises An Eyebrow At Me, As If Reminding Me That We Are In An Underground Tunnel.

Yesterday He Told Me He Thought I Would Have To Pretend To Be Weak, But He Was Wrong. I Am Weak Already. I Brace Myself Against The Wall And Press My Forehead To My Hands. It’s Difficult To Take Deep Breaths, So I Take Short, Shallow Ones. I Can’t Let This Happen. They Attacked Me To Make Me Feel Weak. I Can Pretend They Succeeded To Protect Myself, But I Can’t Let It Become True.

Independent And Uninvolved. Must Be Nice. -tris

I Feel The Monster Of Grief Again, Writhing In The Empty Space Where My Heart And Stomach Used To Be. I Gasp, Pressing Both Palms To My Chest. Now The Monstrous Thing Has Its Claws Around My Throat, Squeezing My Airway. I Twist And Put My Head Between My Knees, Breathing Until The Strangled Feeling Leaves Me.

I Close My Eyes. I Don't Expect Four To Reassure Me, And He Makes No Effort To, But I Feel Better Standing Here Than I Did Out There Among The People Who Are My Friends, My Faction.