me. I looked aside before he could see the weakness in my eyes, but it did me no good, for the Fool stood but an arm’s length away, and all the horror I tried to suppress was in his gaze. The pity mixed with his horror stung me. He saw. He saw, despite all the years, the beaten boy that still huddled within me, and always would. Somewhere I forever cowered, somewhere I was endlessly unmanned by what had been done to me.
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