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If you're still breathing

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From the moment she regains consciousness, it's always on her mind. It lingers, an overwhelming thought:

it hurts.

It hurts more than when her father first collapsed.

It hurts more than when her family—


Nothing will ever get close to the pain of That day.

(when He delighted in their pain, when He decorated their little home with their suffering, when He decided to let her live among the cooling corpses of her family,

when He made her a monster—

no, she isn't a monster, not yet, she won't give Him that satisfaction)


The hunger. She can feel it, like a sentient beast, telling her to give in, to eat eat eat until she won't ever be hungry again and that corpse is so, so fresh won't it be a waste–

No. She can't. She promised her brother, her kind, selfless brother. She promised to not give in. She will prove she isn't a monster. She just needs to endure a bit more, they'll bury the corpse soon and then she can sleep.

Just ignore it.

Then she can sleep and forget this deep, aching hunger.

(she wonders, if it'll ever stop)

(it hurts)