#hooohoo

“I know that...”  There’s nothing she knows better, girl - made - tool - made - vessel - made - monster - made - toy - to - push - til - it - breaks.  The monsters that broke her had been chasing knowledge, because with knowledge came power — for them.  Not for the children they devoured, not really.  The power that Collei once held — still holds — was not power, really, just a different sort of cage, another too - small - room, another set of reaching - hands to shrink from.  Another thing that hurt her, insisting it kept her safe.

(  she’d flinched from equipment that felt too familiar to breathe around / the memory sharp, hand grabbing hair hand pressing face into the dirt hand yanking aside her collar hand pressing a syringe to her neck ——  )

She understands that’s not what Cyno means.  She understands why they want her to better understand, to learn — so that she can be stronger, safer.  And she wants to learn!  Loves learning, loves so much of what he teaches her.  But — her head shakes, still - trembling hands twisting before her body, tugging at her joints like if she can tear them out of their sockets then no one will be able to do it as punishment.  (  remembers breaking her own nose, once, just to spite the bitch who wanted to do it for her.  )

“Power isn’t...always good,” she says, voice small, looking back over the needle she’d been unable to touch.  She knows what they’re for, and it’s not harm.   That knowledge does nothing but make her feel small, weak, BROKEN.  “I’m not...trying to argue —” (  unspoken, don’t be mad, don’t be mad.  she understands that cyno’s not like the ones that hurt her, that cyno won’t break her — she knows that, but knowing doesn’t change years of harm.  )  “I just...don’t like ——”

A reminder, that she is child and aftermath both.