Can you really just wander so much?
Or maybe I can't.
I've been wandering for a while now.
But I'm not really wandering.
"Come with us," they said. Kind voices.
"You'll be safe here," they said. Gentle voices.
But it wasn't. It wasn't safe. And so I ran. I ran away. I'm still running. They're still chasing me.
It's been five years now. Are they still coming? Yes, yes they are. And they beckon me with their voices.
I can't hide forever. Because everything ends. And so will I. And so will they. But I won't end with them.
Their kind voices. Gentle voices.
They told me to listen to them. To do what they want. And so I did. I stayed still. I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I didn't thrash about, like all the others. I was their favorite. Their best. They loved me.
No. They didn't.
They loved it. It, me, not male nor female. They didn't care. I was their toy.
They had such kind voices. Gentle voices. They told me I was good. I was glad to be important to them.
But I wasn't really.
They chained me down, wrapped me around their fingers. I would do anything, everything. And they praised me with such kind voices. Gentle voices.
I would bleed for them. I would be their sacrifice. If they asked me to, I would. And I did. I would lay on a table, cold and hard, and let them do whatever they pleased. They would cut me open. They would pinch me, pull me, hit me, fix me. Whatever they wanted.
One day those kind voices, those gentle voices, weren't so kind and gentle. They were mean. Harsh. Uncaring. Indifferent.
They didn't know I was there. They didn't know I was listening. But I heard. They didn't care about me. They weren't kind. They weren't gentle.
They just used me.
So they would lose me. I ran away. Those kind voices. Those gentle voices. They called after. Not harsh, not uncaring, not indifferent.
Kind voices. Gentle voices.
I hear them more often these days. They're getting closer. Everyday they're closer.
"Come back," they say.
"You're safest with us," they say.
"We need you," they say.
"No one else wants you but us."
"You're the best."
"Listen. Only we can be the ones to help you."
"We love you."
They all say.
But they don't. They're all lies. Lies. Those kind voices say. Those gentle voices.
They were almost shouting today. Closer and closer they get.
They call to me more eagerly, knowing I'm near.
"Come with us."
I want to. Those kind voices, those gentle voices. They sound so welcoming. So kind. So gentle. Everything no one else was to me.
But they need me.
No they don't.
Yes they do.
I was a toy.
No, you helped them!
No, I didn't! They don't need me!
I think I'm going crazy. I argue with myself. I shout at the voices, who never reply.
If they need me so badly, can't they find me easily?
Are they testing me?
They don't need me. I'm their toy. Their plaything. A test. An experiment. I don't need them. They don't need me. They want me. I wanted them.
"Come here," the wind calls. A kind voice. A gentle voice.
I listen. The wind kisses my face. Grass is beneath my feet. The water smells sweet. I hear it crash on the rocks below.
"Follow me. They'll never get you with me," the wind says.