Doing okay today. The early relief that comes with promises of change or help or sympathy or whatever this is. The hope of a reprieve from the monster that is my mind. My corrupted soul trying to change my body and heart in place while I fight without a rest. I don't know what this is, I only know it isn't normal and I know that he rewired my brain in the worst way possible and then before he had time to teach me how to use it, he was gone again. And now he's back and he gets a front row seat to his destruction every day of his life and somehow I hope the guilt eats him alive.
But it won't.
In the meantime, Caleb's been hovering. He hates new doctors, hates not having control or at least input, as it were, hates being told what will happen and when.
It'll be weeks before I see improvement. You can go rest, Diabhal.
Not on your life, Neamhchiontach. I'll take care of you.
Stop, I whisper but he can't hear it.
Yes I can, and no, I won't, he says in return.
Maybe the guilt will eat him alive. I want to be here to see it. Every moment of it.