Fucking shit. Every fucking shit. Every single fuck in the fuckwide world, fucking shit.

I know what pain is, and I know that this is it. But this is something different than the hurt in my back, this is indescribable in some way but in another perfectly lent to words. I'm a child that doesn't speak but my knowledge of language is dangerously impeccable, even if it only exists in my mind. And now my mind is under attack, laid siege to by some fucking shit fucking bone piss monster in the fucking deep black woods.

Fucking shit. Everything is swimming but I'm not sure if it really is. I want to lie down so I bend my legs to do so, only to find that I'm already on the ground. I'm at least a mile from the nearest waterfall, I have to be, or maybe that was just a few feet, but regardless of where it is I can hear it in my head. It is everything, it is loud, it is an omniscient roar and it won't leave me the FUCK alone.

But you know what's funny? Fuck, now I'm talking to a dead dog again, but look, you know what's funny?

My back doesn't hurt. How could it, with this pounding in my ears, this hammer to my skull? It's like a thousand hits of my father's heel, countless beatings I've never received but always imagined. Because at least if the fucker hit me I could scream, right? Maybe then I'd have something to yell, something to inspire me to speak out. I could tell the world about the evils of my father, the wickedness inside his fucking shit fucking heart.

But no, he's just a shit dad. Not the kind to beat me senseless but the kind to look on blind while I get into trouble like this, while I go mad on other colts and lash out at them out of pitiful jealousy. The kind of father that just looks on through eyes clouded with loss and lets me turn into him.

Fuck. Shit. I throw my head against the ground, bashing it repeatedly in the hopes that some errant stone might drive itself into my skull and end it. It feels like there's a pressure, something built and screaming. And just maybe if I can crack a hole and let the blood flow out I can relax, I can breathe.

I think I hear something in the woods, but when I say in the woods I meant right here, right next to my ears and so loud that I can't drown it out. Maybe it's just the wind, maybe it's Archibald come to drag me back to somewhere safe, where he can pretend to care about me out of pity.

Someone has to, right?

""