here are all the ways I hurt:
the disemboweling sword wound from years ago, which cut me open and left me inside-out, raw with fear and wanting each nerve ending singed alive
the slow, hemhorraging trickle of the wound you don’t give weight to saying “it’s temporary, it’s temporary” until it’s not, and you’ve bled out
the sharp stab, blade between shoulder blades when you least expect it where you most resent it when you had just started to believe
you might deserve being loved.