we heal with love,

As always, Voodoo the kind, Voodoo the sweet, was ready with words that made her stomach do flips. But even now, as she was enjoying the sound of her name on his tongue, it could not chase away all of the clouds in her mood. A sad smile twisted her expression as he claimed there was nothing in the world that could make him dislike her. “How can you know that?” She whispered back to him, not expecting an answer but feeling the need to say it all the same. While she appreciated the sentiment, it baffled her. What if she had turned into something terrible? What if she was so far gone from the mare he once knew that there was no return and she only continued to slide into a deeper, darker abyss?

She wanted to believe in his view of her so badly - wanted to believe that it was still possible, and not just as a façade around friends who knew her when she was still made of sunlight.

Voodoo was quick to reassure her that she was not heading down as dark of a path as she feared. She listened quietly to his words, kind and wise. Echoes of other conversations that she had experienced where she had glanced upon this subject but they had never lasted long. They had not forced her to face it, to deal with it right in that moment, the way Voodoo was. Despite the fact that she felt terrible for burdening him with this outpouring of her soul, she hoped that it might work - that it might help. He was being too good to her, far too kind, but she couldn't bring herself to say anything that might cause him to move from their current proximity. After so long, she was not ready to be parted from him.

At his questions, she took a moment to consider them before answering as truthfully as she dared. This did not seem like a moment to pretend or to avoid, her natural instinct to protect her friends from unhappy and uncomfortable thoughts. “I… I hate that I can’t control it. My sister told me that anger is natural but it never was for me. And now that it’s here, it’s consuming me and I can't keep up with it. I feel justified in being angry about the things that have been sparking it but… I don’t think I should be holding onto it for this long.” Her green eyes closed as she spoke, as though that alone could hide the tears that were falling freely now. But more than that, they closed as she was trying to concentrate on explaining to him what she was feeling because she believed he could help. Alysanne still could not bring herself to speak above a whisper - these careful confessions and fears that she was spilling to him.

“I don’t understand how people live with this feeling. What is the right way to vent it?” Without having experienced true anger for most of her life, she never learned that skill. And now it felt too late.

Finally, she opened her desolate eyes again and regarded him across the short distance between them. “Are you ever angry, Voodoo?”

alysanne