Moonspear stage 1: denial

This was different from what he experienced every night when he slept, and every day when his mind tilted in to drug flashbacks; different in ways he couldn't wrap his head around. Before she was only a thought, sometimes only a voice, sometimes a feeling and not a face. As he passed through her Titmouse felt cold and then anger, betrayal, heartache each compounding the last.

He could handle tastes of this. The feeling of being rain-soaked and abandoned. The confusion of not knowing where he was. Anger at partial memories, often bloody. But this was all his feelings, all his thoughts, clarified, with the face and the voice of someone who haunted him endlessly! He didn't know what gave her such power over him now - but as her voice called, he sobbed; as she yelled, he quaked; knowing he deserved everything he got.

I'm — sorry wasn't enough. Titmouse sank, crumpled to the earth, shivering and sobbing; afraid, mourning, hurting, aching - and covered his head with his long white limbs, willing her away. P-please, no more, no more.