They say that the eyes are a window to the soul. But I saw nothing but my terrified body reflecting from yours. I saw not your soul, but instead, I had seen mine. Darkening. Dulling. Broken. You towered over me. Laughing at the vulnerable being below you. The being cowering into the corner. You cut me that day. The cut was so deep that it went beyond a physical wound. It went into my soul; into my being. I thought myself lucky that day, for physical wounds are much harder to conceal. But sooner or later they reveal themselves. They don’t heal as naturally as a wound to the physical body, nor as easily. Cuts to the soul take work to heal. They will not be ignored, because if you ignore them, they only get worse. They can infect your entire being if you allow them to slip by. They eat until there is nothing left. They eat after there is nothing left. They eat until the only way out is death. Maybe you had the same wounds deep inside. Maybe you liked having power in a life that you felt powerless over. Maybe you just wanted to watch me suffer. And I did. And I do. Because I am not strong enough to heal. Yet. Because I cannot catch this infection in my soul. Yet. Because I am weak. For now. But until the day that I can help myself, find myself, I help others. I find others. Just to spite you.