Labrys 20/04
Someone once said that April was the cruelest of months. You can't remember who said it, or even if it was truly said to you. You suppose it doesn't matter now, for it was in the past, and that is lost to you, save for bits and pieces scattered around your mind, that cut like shards of glass when you pick them up. It is also everything that has ever mattered to you.
You have survived, have preserved, have killed in spite of your hope not to. You lived, and yet they want to take away what you live for. Your memories.
You have endured everything else, but this, this is your last straw, your line in the sand.
The point where you must run.
Previous chapter explains some. off to go get sleep