She was in my head for almost a year and I didn't even know it.
That's what gets me, for some reason. I didn't know she was there for months and months and once I did she was too far in to push back out. Worse still, once she was sure I knew she didn't bother to hide anymore. You ever had a psychotic bitch whispering remarks in the back of your head? It's not fun. Trust me.
It can get worse.
I don't think it was so bad when it started. In the beginning, if I had known she was working through me I would have welcomed it. I was that lovesick. I don't think that's even really the word. I was… addicted to her. Her smell, her face, her smile. Her body. She changed it to suit me, I know. Made it little girl delicate and small and slight, so it felt like I'd break her in half when I kissed her, much less when we fucked. I became a fucking knight in shining armor for her. I thought I loved her, and that she loved me, but that was a crock of bullshit. The whole lot of it. I was just here to play a part, to be the guy who saved her and maybe got killed in the process. Not a big deal. She didn't really love me, after all.
That stung, didn't it? You were so sure of love. General Davidus, the dragon killer. The stupid little boy who always pretended he was asleep…
But did I love her? That's what I'm not so sure of any more. You asked me that a month ago and I would have said yes, straight out. A week ago it would have been a bit more hesitant. Now? Looking back, thinking over all that's happened… I don't know. I want to say yes, I know that much. I don't want to think that she went that far, that she made me love her. As sad and as sick as it is, I don't really want her to be the bad guy. I want her to be the lost little girl. The witch who had more power than she knew what to do with and just… was just trying to carve out a life for herself. She was a bitch and I know that. But I'm still not ready to let her go.
Senna.
I don't say her name anymore. It's… it's actually really stupid. A stupid superstition. Some sort of folk belief, like Baba Yaga. Like if I don't say her name, she'll have no power. Which is weird, I know. She's dead. But that's a funny thing, really. She's dead, but her voice is still here.
You want me too much to let me go.
She's still in the back of my head. Sometimes I open my eyes in the morning and blink and blink and blink and keep blinking because it feels like something else is looking out of them besides me. She likes to comment. On how much Christopher drinks, on how lackluster and decidedly un-cheery April looks, on how Jalil still fights his forever lost battle and how Ka Anor comes closer and closer to crushing us every day. Mostly she tells me how it's my fault. And she's right. Because how can I save the whole fucking world if I can't even save myself?
Maybe it's too late to save you.
And maybe she's right. That's the scariest thing of all. She might be right. What is there left to save? My body's here, and so is my mind, but Se – she, I mean. She's here.
I'm not a lot of things, I'll admit, but I am a solder. A soldier knows how to calculate risks. And her in my head? That's a risk I'm not sure I want to take. That I can't make the others take.
I don't want to remember her, but I'm not so sure I want to forget either.
Maybe you don't want to be saved.
The blade cuts cleanly, and while the blood flows I think she laughs.
