[PtM] Track 20.3: Protection

[deep_red_bells]

This girl I know needs some shelter
She don't believe anyone can help her
She's doing so much harm, doing so much damage
But you don't want to get involved
You tell her she can manage
And you can't change the way she feels
But you could put your arms around her

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Maybe it was just time for it. She'd dealt with the emptiness, and the fear of never filling it again, but she hadn't felt the sting of sorrow and anger. There'd been no room for it. Maybe there was now, that the bleakness was...not filling or lightening, but less terrifying, now that there was hope of putting things back together, the way they should be. It's that word again, hope, and if enough people promise you that something can be done, even at your darkest--no, especially at your darkest--you start to believe it.

Whatever the reason for the sudden influx of overwhelming emotions, it hurt, and she was angry, not for herself but at herself, because she was hurting other people. People that cared about her. People that couldn't help but look wounded when she had to ask them their names, people that hovered at a distance where they would normally touch or embrace, people that tried to smile but still looked crestfallen when they did cross that space and attempted to lend comfort only to find her unsure of how to react. And she couldn't stop hurting them. She couldn't change it, she couldn't just flip a switch and suddenly know exactly how she should feel towards them. She was...helpless. And of all of the things that she was slowly rediscovering about herself, the most blaring and painful lesson so far was that she did not like feeling helpless, and that she reacted to things that she did not like and couldn't control very, very violently. Further, any lingering doubts she might've had regarding the things she'd been told of the more unusual traits about herself were wiped away cleanly at seeing the holes that her fist had made in the guest room wall.

It didn't burn off all of the hurt and the rage, but it took enough off of the top that the tears and the angry, muffled sobs could begin to pour out the rest.