A/N: Another one that goes out to EPC, the dear, mostly because she's the only one who read Storm Glass.
"I would never betray you."
"You can never know for sure."
Here I am again, struggling against this salty rain
Hush, the light is draining
And I hear the crocodiles calling my name
Day after day, I must live with the humiliation and fury of the constant betrayal that will never stop. As soon as I get close…
No one is who they say they are. Back when I was young and naïve, all it took to gain my trust was simply not trying to kill or torture me when we first meet. Now, I can't be sure if anyone is friend or foe.
Trust no one.
Despite the bleak terrain
The crocodiles love to entertain
And yet they won't explain
The rules of their favorite game
I think of them as crocodiles, mere animals with no human compassion or conscience. They live to tear apart love and shoot down dreams and hopes for the future. They most certainly are foes.
It's like I am lost in some great field. The sun is shining down upon wildflowers and a gentle breeze ruffles the tall grasses that seem to part as I walk through. But I close my eyes for a single, fleeting second and when I open them, the sky has darkened and the wind has picked up, chilling me to the bone in what I cannot describe as an innocent way. The flowers have shriveled up and died, and the once-lush grasses crunch under my feet as I continue forward relentlessly.
Then, out of nowhere, the crocodiles come.
The mourning morning forms this warning:
Sheathe their teeth from bone
Pure razors need no hone
They gnaw on my heart and bleed me from my arms and legs, draining me of energy and power. Soon, I am nothing.
The ones who betrayed me—the crocodiles—turned me into something else. Not quite human, not quite crocodile. I would not betray a friend, but I am now quick to kill a person and feel nothing.
And if you don't complain
They'll bind your wounds in rusty chains
And shoot you full of novocaine
That numbs you with lies
That blinds jaded eyes so you can't realize
That it's still the same
Soon enough, I have no one. The enemies pursue me for their own evil purposes that I don't even want to think about. I trust, and I am tricked. The cycle is never-ending.
I am not so quick to bestow my secrets upon just anyone now. I am now naturally wary, always cautious—some would mark this as a good trait. For me, it is just another reminder of everything I've gone through and everything I will, no doubt, go through again and again until one villain finally wins and I am just like the list of people I can trust.
Gone.
But the cycle ends.
We're so very glad you came
We know that change is strange
But we claim we're all quite tame
There is one on my list now.
One.
He is mine, and I am his. I used to think that he would be the death of me—quite literally—because every single day with him I feared for my life.
The irony is almost unbearable.
It's amazing how people can turn around like that; a complete one-eighty that left me perplexed, if not a bit relieved.
My point is, if you are a crocodile, you don't always have to be one. People can change, and they do. Your hopes and dreams can be recovered, though you may not be entirely healed. I'm still not. But don't jump on the chance of an ally or a partner.
They could be a crocodile.
Such a familiar strain is lodged inside my brain
What a sad refrain
When even the crocodiles sing out my name
"Trust me."
"I do."
