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I was so afraid, out of my mind with terror. I knew the pain was coming, anticipating the red hot iron again was more than I could bear. And when he came to offer us comfort, I ran. I ran to him ... and away from danger, pain, rage, and sin. I was crying the memories of the witch hunt, the memories of the powerful man who had been one of the priests, and who in this life I was triggering so mightily. I felt his hatred flowing toward me like a clenched fist, hated for the Mother, for all "uncontrollable" and "wrong" Will/Soul essence. His hatred acted like a vise, clamping down on the essence he didn't know was hiding within him. And then suddenly, this new part came to me. She came in crying "Shelter me, shelter me!" For a long while, that's all she would cry. "He's going to come after me, he'll find me!" She was in terror, but when she looked around and saw where she was (with me) she grew even more terrified. She didn't want to be here, she didn't trust me, she didn't want to be associated with me or Mother or Will. But then came waves and waves of grief and heart break. "I have nowhere else to go," she cried. "I can't pretend anymore that he loves me. It's time to die..." All I wanted was for him to love me. Let me hide here... away... invisible. And so she came home, after all this long while. She comes in in waves, or maybe it's that she herself fragmented so many times, that I'm pulling her in in bits, like beads on a string. I welcome her, in all her pain and grief and terror. She fears me still, sometimes. She doesn't know who to trust, and she's sure I will lead us to torture again. After all, I am the sin that brought us to that witchy end, that caused her to flee and fragment away. But it is as she said, she had nowhere else to go. She had to come home. But she can't find a reason to live or try, so she just stays in my arms, resting in my breast, and cries and cries and cries. And I ... oh what sweetness and relief I feel to have her with me again. I did not know, maybe it's not possible to know where the emptiness is inside. A missing part is sometimes not something you feel or are aware of. I didn't know how much of my luscious heart was missing! How can you know when it's something you just don't feel. And so you think... well, I must not feel love like other people do. I must not have the ability to love like that. Or ... maybe all those flowery words of love are just made up feelings, maybe it's not anything real. But now that she's here, inside me, warm and aching and hurt and frightened and still and all... full to bursting with love ... now I KNOW. Now I KNOW what I was missing. |