mizumono angst ficlet??

my cat Natasha escaped early this morning and i’m sad/worried/anxious and hoping she comes back. 

gonna write some angst. anyway, here have some hannigram angst in 2nd pov that no one likes but me bc i’m trash.

In time, skin pulls itself back together. The human body is resilient. Or it can be. But it’s not luck that has your insides still inside. Oh, no, no, no. Stitches may have closed the gash on your belly, but he didn’t really hurt you there, did he? It’s a superficial wound in comparison to the damage left on your--

Where did the bad man touch you? Where did he hurt you?

(Your heart. Your mind. Everywhere, you would say.)

Guilt and regret war against the morphine drip. Your stream is waiting. You could put your head back -- but you didn’t listen to him then and you don’t now.

Drip. Drip.

But no, nothing dripped that night. The rain poured outside, heaven seeming content to cry whilst God watched another church collapse. It spurted. An already scarred throat ripped open. The Ripper doing what he did best. Blood spurted. Gushed. Fathers and their daughter and betrayal heavy in the air. The slow rise and fall of your beautiful stag’s chest, like a slowing pendulum. 

(Seeing too late.) 

If you hadn’t needed a sacrifice, you all would be...

If you had shot him in his kitchen after that rather theatrical flinch, she would be...

If you hadn’t called him, he would be...

You imagine her. You have conversations, but they’re not the same. She’s only sometimes better than your if this, if that scenarios.

But where did you touch him? Where did you hurt him?

(His heart. His mind. Everywhere, he would say.)

They say it’s trauma. They say you’re traumatized. They say it takes time, but there’s no safety found in your home now. There’s no joy amidst wagging tails and warm tongues licking at your face 

You fix a motor, but there’s no fix for your heart. 

You fix another motor, but there’s no fix for your mind.

So, you sail across an ocean. To mend? To exact revenge? To see?