How long has it been? Since the day she left. I thought I’d healed. The world thought I’d healed. And yet, every now and again the wound tears apart, and fresh hot blood gushes forth, oozing out in the form of warm trickles of tears while my body is rocked by spasms and guttural cries of anguish and regret.

I’m tired. So, so tired. The nights are still dark. They’re still full of terrors. Every night, most nights, I wearily pick up my rusty sword and prepare to fend off the demons that come at me in the night. I’m scarred. I’m wounded. I have no more strength. Every night, I’m tempted to just give up.

Fading into the blackness..

Help me. Please.