And it all mixes into one perfect little cocktail that I just...every time Connor leaves the room I've broken down into a little pathetic thing, and I have to recover before he gets back. Why?
It's not even something that should bother me. I'm frustrated because I feel pathetic, I'm in pain, my pride is as bruised as my hip...but it's not at all the same. Nothing. I fell off my horse and my fiance, my perfect, amazing fiance is taking care of me, more than I've had in years. And it's nothing...
But every time I seem to just keep reliving that crap that was, what, 20 years ago? I couldn't move for three days because I had lashes across my back so deep I screamed every time I rolled over. It was the first time Chanelle kept watch on me. It hurt and I still have the scars....but why do I keep remembering that? Why does an injury from a horse equate to that in my crazy brain?
And I don't talk to him. Because it sounds so crazy, it's so stupid. And he's just...he's as far away from that as I could ever get. That was hell, and he is my savior. I don't tell him much. I don't let him see my scars...I mean, he's seen them. But I don't...it's different. It's the last part of my world that he hasn't heard a lot about. He's heard more about Drake, what I went through with Catty, all of that...than when I was a slave. Because I don't want to mix them. He's not that.
But I should. Because I keep breaking apart and I'm sick of it, and I'm sick of hiding it. And he knows better than to think I'm fine when I say I am. So...that's just messing with everything. But...I don't know.
I hate feeling so trapped and pathetic. And it's just adding on and making things worse. I don't want to deal with it.