Chapter 11: ROSEY

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I try in vain to keep my vision from blurring any further, but as I tried to fight it, it stubbornly got worse to the point of everything just being a blur.

My heart still pumped fiercely, but that even started to slow down.

All noises were replaced with this piercing sound ringing in my ears from a distance.

I didn't know whether I was dying or just slipping into unconsciousness but it caused panic, along with the horror and pain to build up in my chest so fierce that it hurt.

My whole body was flaming, burning, sweaty, and aching. I didn't know if I should keep fighting against the awaiting darkness, or just give up.

It was a battle that pained me exceedingly.

Through the determination to keep myself alive while my body was shutting off, a sob cracked.

It felt like my soul was ripped apart at how much the sob carried emotions. It was sorrow, a lot of sorrow. Anger, too.

I was angry at Master for no reason at all. I should never expect him to come and save me. And that hurt me. I didn't know why, but it did. It hurt my heart so much that it broke into an ugly sob.

Even if we are taught as pets to accept our death whether it comes later or sooner, we shouldn't expect a difference.

But I didn't want to die, not so soon. Even if it meant surviving with or without Master's help.

The desperation tasted bitter on my tongue, but the need hurt more.

Inhaling a hitchy breath, I breathed it out shakily. I relaxed for a moment and at that moment my tears stopped.

Everything hurts.

Drowsiness taunted me and before I could dispute and try fighting it off, a sharp light invaded my vision.

Everything went black within seconds.

***

"So, Granny, to be strong includes crying? Doesn't that mean you're weak?" I ask, my brows cringing in confusion.

Everything she says always turns out so confusing.

She giggled, shaking her head before tenderly smiling at me. She relaxes against her rusty old chair and runs her boney, wrinkled fingers through the kitty's fur.

I smile when it started to purr.

"No, dear. Tears don't mean weakness. Many people have it all wrong. Where you suffer emotionally and you bottle it all up, you'll hurt yourself more. Whereas you cry, you relieve that ache and realize it could be dealt with. Tears only show you're a being that has emotions," she explained wisely.

I pout in thought.

Well then, if Granny says so, it's true.

I shrugged it off and gently took a kitty that walked past me, putting her on my lap while petting her head.

So fluffy.

"Why don't men cry?" I ask, glancing at Granny to spot she's sipping on her tea.

"Ah, they're too worried about their pride and to be seen as a "crybaby" that they don't realize it soon enough that tears don't show you are weak. Even the men that bullies a man that does cry, know there is nothing wrong with crying. I just wish all men could realize it the very moment they hit puppetry."

I furrow my brows, before looking up at Granny in question, "What's puppetry?"

She only could laugh.

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