Wrong Guy

22 | instinct

Episode 22:
INSTINCT

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F A W N ' S P O V :

Fight or flight is defined as 'the instinctive physiological response to a threatening situation, which readies one either to resist forcibly or to run away.' When an organism is under attack, or is in a threatening locality they must make the decision between the two words that begin with F.

Mice, deer, and antelope are the flyers. They run away from the source of danger, and they keep going until they've lost the predator, or the predator has already gotten what he wishes for. Food. On the other end of the spectrum you have wasps, and skunks. If they feel they're in danger, they'll fight back. It's just the way they've been built to react to danger.

Me, I'm the flyer. But Lawrence, he sees a threat and he fights.
Next to me, right fucking next to me, is the threat. And his name begins with an E.

But I'm the one that's in the clutches of his arms, and not showing any signs of struggle.

Lawrence's eyes, squinted from his furrowed brows, cut through the multiple layers of clothing on my body and slice through my skin until all that remains is my heart. Swollen and red from the aggressive strokes of the sandpaper I was given last night. 

Figuratively speaking.

I imagine that would be less painful than what happened in reality. Figurative speaking, sounds too pretty. Figurative speaking, doesn't explain the raw skin, that's being aggressively rubbed off of me with every breath I take.  Figurative speaking, doesn't go into detail about how I'm still whole, yet I'm chipping away. Not yet broken. I'm in that hell hole between the two, where I'm not quite gone, but I don't find it easy to be living.

Figurative speaking, can't explain how it got to be that way either, it doesn't explain the reason.
I don't think I can explain either, I was trying – to tell Elliott.

But, but now Lawrence is here, and I think it's a sign. That I'm not supposed to.
I should just keep to myself and do what I do best.

Wait for the throbbing to turn to a sting, and the sting to turn to a soreness that never really goes away – but you mange to ignore, so your life can keep on going to shit while you're still somewhat comfortable.

"Are you okay with this?" Lawrence asks, and I can hear his teeth chomp together as his mouth snaps shut. A second later, "You are, aren't you?"

He looks back over to Elliott, who's standing tall, but stiff nonetheless.

"I'm sure you are," he snarls.

"Yep," Elliott replies casually, to which I look back at him, mouth agape.

"Elliott!" I yell, and he shrugs his shoulders.

"You surprised that wasn't an apology?" He asks, "What's there to apologize for?"

"This piece of – " Elliott interrupts Lawrence.

"Shit? You mean yourself? Why don't you just admit that it's exactly what you are after treating her the way you have." Elliott snaps, his serious side making an appearance after glancing back to me.