Oxy

The urge to shout ‘Oh Jesus Christ, everybody shut the hell up,’ is really hard for you to bite back, but somehow you manage. Of course, you realize it’s really only you and your child shouting right now, but the searing pain in every part of your body is kind of making you irrational. Maybe the pain is affecting your head too, giving you some kind of migraine? Seems likely. Anyways, even though you really want to yell, you don’t, because you’re pretty sure yelling at a crying kid is a good way to make them cry more. Or does yelling at them make them stop crying? Ahhh!!! You have no idea. You are not a dad. Except you are, and everything hurts, and everything is stupid. And you hate December, even though you don’t know her; but you just know by looking at her that she’s going to be terrible. You can feel it in your bones.

On another note, maybe Snowflake was right about not being high around the kids, because we all know how you get about sudden movements when you’re high, and babies seem to be made of sudden movements. Your child (seriously, what is her name?) flops against your leg without any prior warning. You wince terribly, only your warrior training preventing you from withdrawing the leg erratically, but you cannot stop the wave of pain that rushes up your limb. It hurts. Everything. Fucking. Hurts. Grinding your teeth together, you hiss some air through them, all the while trying to make sense of her childish ramblings. And… wait…

She did it?

The revelation alone is enough to make you forget how agonal you are, your brow furrowing as you finally take your gaze away from December, following the child’s gaze back to where a frog might have been had it not hopped away, and then- Oh. Now you’re a napkin. Rolling your eyes (but you’re not really that upset, because you can’t even remember the last time you were actually clean), you finally decide to pay attention to the draft mare. Ugh. Just looking at her makes your whole body hurt again. Is she doing this? Logically you know she isn’t, but the pain kind of makes you forget that.

As for December hoping for rationality out of you… she’s clearly in the wrong part of the forest. Giving her a few seconds to start her cleaning escapade, allowing her to speak about what she’s doing, you finally grow bored of her musings and mutterings and just start to talk. “Fuck your suggestions.” Well… that’s a good way to start. “If she wants to explode things and make frogs fly, then she can damn well do it.” Great parenting- way to go. “And fuck cleaning up too. She lives here. If she wants holes, she can have holes.” Only the best for your babies, of course. And then it occurs to your rather slow mind that she can make things explode. Cool. Maybe having children won’t be the worst thing ever. Smiling even through the pain that continues to assault you, you look down to the child. “Good job. Keep it up.”

Returning your gaze to December, you glare, almost daring her to defy you. Of course, now isn’t the best time to be starting fights. You’re at a terrible disadvantage. Still… You’re pretty sure you could take her.

@[Shida], @[December]

scars remind us our past is real