April 25th, 2015

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April 25th, 2015

          "Every time I think the nightmares are getting better, somehow some new memory floods my mind in the middle of the night. But when I woke last night, Ophelia was already awake, already waiting to comfort me. I wondered, in that very moment as she looked at me with utterly serene eyes without any judgement, how much that look would change if she had known what I had just seen. She's seen it before, maybe not that particular memory, but she's seen more than she has told me. The first few times she ever got into my head, I'm sure it was a messy blur of chaos.

        I held onto her, and despite being covered in a cold sweat, she didn't push me away. I only remember falling asleep to her humming something, though I couldn't tell you what it was. Sometimes the memory starts off as though it has been branded into my memory- white hot and painful. Then I wake, thinking that I'm still there, in Siberia. Only once I see O do I realize I've overreacted again, and that white hot brand fades into a scar.

           But scars last longer than most things; I sometimes catch myself looking at her scars. The rounded marks that are raised from her porcelain skin; three of the four bullet scars she has are from me, all within the same day. Like the scarring around my arm, they are a reminder of HYDRA and what they are capable of doing, but only her marks upon her stomach are from HYDRA. The other ones... Those are from me.

           No matter what mindset, no matter what brainwashing I was under; I still did it. I try not to show it, to show her that I hate myself when I see them, because I know she'll think I only see her that way when I see her fully."

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