I’ve started calling her Pandora. Yes, I am in fact referring to my own mysterious pain as my daughter. Why not? It makes her seem less alien. Yes, I know that’s really, really weird, and yes, I know it’s impossible for a grown human male to become pregnant, and I’m sure it wouldn’t feel like this. Then the pain flares up again and I just wince and smile. I guess I’m strange like that.
I got sent to the hospital again. Teacher found me slumped at a desk, hyperventilating, shaking, half crying. Probably would be screaming, if I could scream. I kept muttering "he’s here" over and over again. I jumped away when I was touched.
He came for me. The Dark One. Touched me, hurt me. I was scared. So, so scared, terrified for my life. I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t… anything. It was awful.
I don’t remember too much. But I remember the fear. And I know that he’ll come for me again. He may never stop. I just hope I survive… of course I will. He doesn’t want me dead. He wants me broken beyond repair.
I think I’m in love. (again.) She’s:
- Beautiful
- Confident
- Caring
- Small
Okay, "small" isn’t really a good or bad thing. I just thought I’d mention it.
And yet… I’ve got a terrible feeling. Perhaps I’m just paranoid; things in the past haven’t really gone too well. But what if it’s more? What if I hurt her, as I’ve hurt others? What if she doesn’t accept me for what I am? What if I’ve been so broken that I can’t feel love for her, or anyone, ever again? That above all is my greatest fear.
But maybe that’s why I’ve found her. Perhaps, through her, I can learn to love again. Love her, love myself, maybe even love the world. She will be my redemption… or my undoing.
I can only hope. Hope is often all I have left.
I can’t see myself as living to see seventeen.
Maybe it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy in that sense. I have no idea. But I do get the feeling that this will be my final winter. My final trial.
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