death of the first link

She only knew how to respond to the rage by transferring it to someone else.  That’s all she had ever seen and learned. It was the absolute construct of her environment, and she like a good little empath had learned to follow the rules, to adhere to what she was taught. It was safer that way. Now she was alone, with (as it was put to her) the bed she had made, with no idea how to stop the red-hot fire that threatened to consume her in its chokehold, to erupt so violently that she was sure she’d explode from the painful force of the insidious belligerence and indignation exiting her being… how to not set it free, free to destroy those in its wake.  She didn’t want to let it out, she knew it would hurt someone., someone she loved.  She tried to breathe deeply and control it, but she ended up doing the only thing that was possible at that moment, to save them.   She took that destructive darkness and she shoved it so deep into her being that she could literally feel her body struggle to contain that much darkness, disdain, and desperation.   Her hand shook as she lowered it back to her side… she looked down at them. NO, she thought, breathing heavily.  She walked away, slightly dizzy, and sick to her stomach.  She had won that battle, for them.  She wondered if they would ever realize what it took to pulverize the first link that day.

Years later, after so much more had happened, one day the memory resurfaced… she realized she had never bothered to excavate that toxic energy from her being, it had festered and caused her much pain and suffering, she was ready to let it go.  They were so worth it. 

 

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