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My heart seems frozen in time. Everything in my body is so numb. It has stayed numb since the other day. My body doesn't
seem to react to anything and my mind is so blank. I can't tell for sure what I look like, but I can feel my face and it hasn't
changed with any expression in a while. I don't necessarily like it, but it's better than feeling, I suppose. I don't think
I could handle that, even with Trowa holding me.
We're lying in bed, his arm draped over me. I'm not facing him. I
can't. He has tried to talk to me, but thankfully he understands that I need time. A lot of time. The memory of what I did
is still fresh in my mind as if it just happened. I can still feel the gun in my hand, see the body on the ground, smell the
blood.
I don't want to think about it, but it's not something can be easily forgotten. I wish with all of my dull
heart that it was.
I can feel Trowa, warm against my back. His breath is hot and moist on my neck. It's a welcome
feeling. Something my body recognizes and acknowledges. His arm is heavily draped over my side and my hand is held in his.
The hand that held the gun, the hand that pulled the trigger and
No. Stop it.
I don't want to think about
it. I close my eyes as tight as I can, trying to will away the senses of the memories. It doesn't work too well. I can see
the body fall to the ground on the back of my eyelids. I open them back up and I look out the window, trying desperately to
distract myself.
Oh, look, grass. Interesting... Why do I even bother?
This is why I hate weekends. It's the
morning and I have nothing to do but think. No task to distracts myself with and I'm sure that even if I wanted to get up
and try to do something, Trowa's arm would tighten and prevent me from getting out of bed. I appreciate his concern, and I
know what happened scared him too, but sometimes I wish he would just back off.
Sometimes I wish he would let me deal
with it all on my own. I accept what I did and what happened. Don't I? I murdered someone. I remember the swarm in my head
that overtook me before I shot him. Fear and pain and anxiety and hatred... all devoured my senses and took over my body.
The next thing I knew, the overwhelming emotions had me chasing after t he man who had hurt me. Then those memories arose.
I remember what he did...
No. Not going to think about that. Not now.
Hmm... look at that grass
The
thoughts don't leave no matter how hard I try to make them. Its like theyve been burned into the backs of my eyelids, photographed
by my head so that every time I close my eyes, I see what I do not want to see ever again. My chest starts to hurt; the feeling
is coming back. A splitting pain tears at my heart, the pain shooting through my body. I wish the numbness would return.
God,
I hate feeling like this!
Trowa's awake now, holding me tighter. I think he said something but I'm really not listening
right now. I just want the numbness to come back. The pain, the feeling of it, is too much. I killed a man. An innocent man.
So what happened to the guilty man? I don't know. I hope he's dead. I hope that he was tortured and
No! Stop!
What
he did does not matter. I shouldn't have done what I did. There is no excuse. I killed someone - the wrong someone - and there
is no excuse for it.
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