there are no physical injuries and yet she can still feel something is off. a soft voice breaks the silence , " are you hurting . . . ? "
It rolls with him like - a one-two punch, or waves, or - something Dusty could only refer to as a feeling that just doesn’t leave him. There are constant reminders, little ticks that remind him or jolt him to his senses if it even remotely resembles past trauma.Ark’s voice is like sweet relief from his racing thoughts.“…..” He’s silent, at first. Dusty wants to question how she knows, but - it’s more than likely written all over his face and within his body language. “How could you tell?” He finally says back, his voice surprisingly soft and calm. “I try not to let it show - - but - I slip up. A lot.” The blonde tells her. “But I don’t see a way past these feelings. It’s always going to return - it could happen again, at any moment, because…. I know it’s all still out there.”He clenches hands. Shakes - palms quivering.“I want it to end because I can’t keep facing the outside of the Scrapyard until it’s over.”
