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Then again, death always manages to create misplaced adoration and loyalty. But murder? That brings an entirely different level of fanaticism.
That’s the thing with trauma to the body—it shows up instantly. In breaks and bruises, in burns and in blood. But the trauma on the inside, that’s harder to see. It creeps around your mind, poisons you with disquiet. It can hit you out of nowhere, debilitating and ruinous. There are no marks visible for those. None, save the shadows in your eyes.
Maybe none of us truly know our own strength. Not until the world has hacked away at us. But the point is, we aren’t strong because of our trauma. We were always strong to begin with. We just needed to figure it out for ourselves.
For one, he’s a man, and I’ve sworn off men for the time being. Maybe even forever. I haven’t found a single one who’s ever been worth much of anything.
Clock it
You never notice what’s keeping you balanced until you realize you’re not standing straight anymore.
“Even the most powerful people can be made to feel powerless. Finding your strength even when you believe you have none is what makes you a true force. Nobody made you into what you are, my lady. You were always strong. You just had to prove it to yourself.”
My lips curve up, and I hold up the bottle in a toast. “No longer live the king.” His mouth curves in a rare smile that I’m not sure I’ve ever seen. “No longer live the fucking king. And may you kick anyone’s ass who ever tries to hurt you again.”
Any beautiful person who says otherwise is lying. Sometimes, it’s to fish for compliments. But mostly, it’s because they have been taught by society—men, in particular—that we have to downplay our beauty, to only let them determine it. To seem humble.
“Good. Use your rage to complete your courage.”
“I don’t give a fuck what other people think.” “That’s such a man thing to say,” I reply with a slight roll of my eyes as I take another bite. “Women in this world have to be more careful. Perceived reputations can be life or death.”
