Prologue: A Letter To You

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I couldn't understand it at first, the pain. The one that was inside. It wasn't just a single solid pain either. It was something that was stretched all over the body, all the time, but at alternating times. And it wasn't something so silly that it could be ignored or taken to the doctor about. Because it felt as though there were a live animal inside, clawing and biting to get out.

I could deal with physical pain. A punch to the face you could see coming. And you could see the aftermath of that punch. The swelling and bruising of the eye, the spider web of blood vessels angrily wriggling under the skin. And if you were really unlucky, there was the crooked, swollen thing that was once your nose. Physical pain was simple. There was a visible issue that had caused it, and a process on how to fix it.

How do you fix a rabid bear that is eating you alive from the inside?

It was absolutely maddening. There was this thing inside of me that I had no idea when it would wake up and start attacking. I could be on a bus and suddenly feel as though claws were ripping apart my ribcage to shred my heart. I would lose my breath, tears pricking at my eyes, with my hand clutching the front of my shirt as if somehow I could stop the assault. And because I didn't understand what was going on, I began to blame myself. Irrational anger became the other monster inside of me as I made the excuse that I was weak. Which, as you can obviously imagine, created more damage than anything else.

Drowning in pain, fear, and self-hatred I became my own worst enemy. To try and numb the chaos that was within me, I attacked myself physically. But all that did was bring a temporary relief that, in the end, only brought even more pain. There was no physical pain that could dull or distract from what was going on inside of my head.

It was a war zone, but without the fire and explosions. It wasn't loud. It wasn't epic. No. It was me standing in the middle of nowhere surrounded by a lake of my own blood, fog hanging low and obscuring any of the dull landscape. It was entirely silent...a terrifying silence that rested a sweaty, chilled hand between your shoulder blades. My own pounding heart muted by the weight of it. And the whole time, I would wait there with baited breath to be assaulted by whatever reached out from the fog. Whatever emotion. Whatever memory.

And that was just what was happening inside my head.

Alice

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