always the wolf in the iron suit. smells the blood and pounces. i trace through the lines for the place you drew out of. i will relive it until i can’t breathe. stare at the ceiling, play it on loop. and they’ll find a way to blame me, as i sit there with clenched fists, still shaking, stuck echoing that thursday night over and over again. what did i do that made me special? promised not to hurt anyone but here i am, the only victim, sick and grey and frozen. and now i’m the girl with the claw marks in her back, who sat through something bad, who had that happen to her. can smell the bleach on my skin, see the red where i tried to wash it off. memorised the corners of the room, the stain on my shoes, the burn mark on my neck. begged me not to scream out, to seal the sin with tight lips, but couldn’t they see it anyway? couldn't they smell the hunger, the drool from your mouth, the widening of your irises as you prepped for the hunt. and why am i the one shaking in the corner? why am i the prey? let me be honest, let me pull the wool from over your eyes. this is not my shame to carry. this is not my burden to bare. if you wanted to wound me you should have dug the knife deeper. if you wanted a feast you should have sharpened your teeth. you will carry this, wolf no longer. i won’t be your quarry, i won’t be another casualty. i might bleed but you will bleed out. i will be the hunter. the predator. the wolf. iron fist unchained. bullet wounds biting back. i have to be. i will be.
