Thursday, February 10

#5 Something given, something taken

I didn't see Him again... didn't even know that I wasn't unique until years later when I first read others' accounts online. I don't even know why He didn't kill me...


He did try to make me do it myself.

You Proxies, you should know best how He rips you apart and remakes you in the image He likes best. With me, and maybe others at the time, He was still experimenting.

He pulled me out of myself like silly putty and imprinted himself on me. And then, I rejected Him.

Confusion? Rage? Snapping me back into me, do you imagine He wouldn't take revenge?

Maybe He realized it would be a waste to kill me outright when there was still more He could learn. Instead, He compelled me to kill myself.

I was not the most extroverted child. Beyond being shy, the kids that didn't think I was odd thought I was a snob. I'd been bullied from a very young age. No matter how many times we moved when I was a kid, there was always a new bully waiting for me.

But after the encounter, I couldn't put up with it any more. Everything hurt too much. My senses were raw, torn open to their fullest extent. I'd already been aware I was an empath, but now I had no shields and even when the other children weren't picking at me or playing cruel pranks, I could feel their disdain and cruel humor and repudiation.

It was like He was giving back what I gave Him and then some. I started thinking of killing myself all the time. Pills, cutting my wrists in the bath, throwing myself into one of the numerous nearby quarries. The last one was a very real danger.

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