Once more, with feelingBy Zenia
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He searched for me, that's something, I suppose. But it's still not
enough, not enough to heal the wounds.|
Deva tells me to take it slowly. "You felt something for him, once. That sort of feeling doesn't just go away."
No, but it can die. It can bleed away. It can be chipped at, one betrayal at a time. I trusted him and he shot me. Insanity isn't an excuse, nor is too much feeling. That's the excuse Dayna gives, "he has too much feeling." But then the girl is rather trigger- happy herself.
My favorite: Don't fault Avon, he wasn't himself.
Poor, bloody Avon.
Everyone thinks I should forgive him, to forget that he shot an unarmed man. Forgive him! He hasn't even apologized. It's my fault, of course it's my fault. I just gave him everything he ever wanted: his freedom, the contents of the treasure room, the Liberator. He didn't really want all that, didn't I know? Couldn't I read his mind?
Maybe I should tell them all to fuck off.
No, no I could never say that. Not dignified, too coarse, not...Blakian. Being the hero of the masses means I can never say what I want.
He broke my heart. I don't suppose I could say that either.
What about, it hurt me? When he said that he wanted to be free of me, it hurt. I wanted to grab him and shake him. "Damn you, damn you, don't you know how I feel about you? Avon..."
But I didn't. Instead it was, "I have always trusted you, from the very beginning." Anything more and...well I carry enough scars, why add to them?
That was the problem, I kept adding to them. Every time Jenna didn't trust me or Vila whined that he didn't want to go or Cally questioned my plans, a little more of my soul fractured and blackened.
Why couldn't they believe in me?
Avon wanted it finished. So did I. I'm not a masochist; I know when to give up. I need to touch and they couldn't abide it. Sometimes fighting is just not worth it, not if it's going to leave you bleeding.
So now I have to forgive Avon because he feels, because he hurts.
I hurt. I hurt so much that I can't sleep at night. The screaming keeps me awake. Oh, I know it's all in my head, or is it my heart, but it never ends.
Avon hurts and no matter how many times I wash my hands, the blood is never completely gone.
Does he wake up screaming? Does he wake up not wanting to wake up? Does he have blood on his hands?
Does he--does he feel *sorry* about shooting me?
He shot me and I bled. I'm still bleeding and I don't think that it'll stop until I'm dead and buried. I'll forgive him tomorrow, the way I always do, with a hand on his shoulder and a question about what he's working on. And when I have the taste of ashes in my mouth, I'll swallow it down without choking.
I'm tired, and that emotion that I never name, it hurts too much not to let it go.
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