this one is shorter than the rest! so very sorry. :c I couldn't find the right words to flow this all together. It didn't come out as I wanted it to when I put it to a doc, but here is some of it.
of gunfire and bullet wounds
Of all the things I've ever done, falling in love was probably the worst.
I can't describe it––it's one of those feelings you just can't form words about. What could I say about it? It was me and her, her and me. Nothing more, nothing less.
Two prisoners of war––who ever heard of them falling in love?
She's in my nightmares every night, and each time, she's dead. She's dead, gone, ceases to exist, and each time––like a dumb fool––I try and save her. I try and fight for her, knowing good and well they're going to kill her; maim her; rape her until she's nothing but a bleeding body with lines creasing her face from how hard she's crying, resisting, punching...
God, I plead, please don't do this. Make them stop. Make them stop...
And though I cry and curse and fight, they still do everything all over again.
Each night, I wake in a cold sweat, completely numb. I can feel everything that happened––the beatings, the anger, the cries of war and suffering––all over again, and often times I find myself huddled in the corner of the room, where Pony still lays in bed, unaware of what's been through my head.
They know of my nightmares; Darry knows the signs, but I don't dare tell them anything about them. If I do, they'd surely send me somewhere to "get help". They'd lose me again, and I'm not sure if I'd ever come back.
She's constantly in my head; almost like a cancer. But she's a cancer I wouldn't mind having––wouldn't mind dying for.