Jan. 28th, 2012

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And it’s this nagging feeling, this feeling that you’ve forgotten something, something important—of course because you’ve forgotten EVERYTHING—every time you think about the fact that oh, hey, I’m dead now, or just when you’re not doing anything, just sitting there staring at nothing, and to this day you’re not sure what triggered it, what brought back that flood of everything, so strong it sends you reeling to the floor, head spinning and dizzy and nauseous as the whole thing plays back in your head:

Alone on the streets. Meeting him. Initial fight. Distrust. Mutual agreement—two are better than one out here—because he’s impressed with you for some reason and you kinda like him and it’s partnership. And then the training, and the knives, and the practices and the fights, hundreds of fights and tournament and victory and money, piercings and tattoos, jewelry and metal yanked from defeated opponents, metal around your neck, on your wrists, fingers, like a badge of your prowess—and then the occasional laughter, smiles; the kisses, the sex, the smoke—he and smoke always go together—the weird feelings and avoidance of that one word, because it’s dangerous here and the hiding from the rain and tough finding food, shelter—and then fights, arguments, snapping, and that good newcomer with the silver hair—no, not him. The cheater. The cheater with the lying smirk and the warning—and that brings with it this insanely powerful feeling of oh god I screwed up didn’t I and then the whole thing comes back: Fight to the death and desperation and this feeling of I can’t lose and so much blood and pain and then the final stroke and your last thoughts are I’m such an idiot I should’ve listened to you this is so stupid oh god I’m sorry I can’t even say goodbye TRACEY—

And that hurts, that hurts so bad, hurts even more when you think about how he must’ve found you, your best friend, your ONLY friend, lying there DEAD practically cut in half—you still have the scars—in a sea of your own blood and it hurts, hurts too when you realize how you’ve forgotten the whole thing, been so oblivious this whole time—and you can’t think, just this sickening, mind-numbing feeling of I’m sorry I’m so so sorry why didn’t I listen why did I do that to you god I’m such an idiot I never even TOLD you— How could I die like that god that was so stupid you even warned me I’m so stupid I’ve always been—oh god I’m sorry—!


When Jervin regained his memories of his life.


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