It hurts. Oh, it hurts. It feels like he's unpicking the fibres of my muscles, the membrane of my veins. Whatever it is he's undoing has been part of me for longer than this body, much longer. But it doesn't hurt as much as dying did, which still has me waking up from nightmares.
I'm sick at some point, from the pain. I can't see well, with it hurting and with him so deep inside me, but I can taste the acid of it in my throat, smell it in the air. I think of Management fiercely. They shouldn't have asked for what they did. They shouldn't have made me leave. I won't be their tool, whatever it takes.
إبليس, I say, inside my head. إبليس, إبليس. Yes.
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Date: 2013-07-15 09:16 pm (UTC)I'm sick at some point, from the pain. I can't see well, with it hurting and with him so deep inside me, but I can taste the acid of it in my throat, smell it in the air. I think of Management fiercely. They shouldn't have asked for what they did. They shouldn't have made me leave. I won't be their tool, whatever it takes.
إبليس, I say, inside my head. إبليس, إبليس. Yes.