These flashbacks I have are more frequent and I do not understand why.  Perhaps it is the meddling Pyreen did inside my mind when trying to make me face that which I fear most - my cruel masters, the Mogu. 

Or perhaps in my state of mind in which everything I do is based on the primal desire to survive, I suppressed those thoughts as best I could in order to fit in with those that rescued me - for fear that I would be left behind or sent away if I appeared too damaged to contribute to the group.  Like a wounded animal hiding its weakness.

I have hidden is so well, and repressed it so hard that now?  It emerges to the top unbidden and unwelcome.  No more can I hide the emotional damage my captures, my torturers, have done to me.

It is not just what was done to me, but what was taken from me - my brothers and my father in the same day, within a few minutes of each other.  That loss will forever scar my heart, never to be healed, and so too, the knowing that it should have been me that died.  I was the least skilled of the five of us, the least experienced, and yet…I lived.

I wish I had died.  Many times have I thought that in the dark hours of the night when I refuse to sleep.  The Mogu broke me down until I wanted to die - longed to die and was willing to do anything just for that release…that escape…from my torment.  Only the memory, and the hope, that my sister still lived, and was safe in the care of the Farstriders in Quel’thalas, kept me going those six months. 

Within the last month though, the Mogu took even that hope away from me, and used the memory of my sister against me. It wasn’t all physical torture they did, but emotional, causing me to see visions of my sister, dead because we had not been there.  Killed on some street in a far off place because we, her brothers, were gone.

I do not know if I can ever forgive myself for giving up - for losing hope - and I am reminded of it every night in my sleep.  Shiiori may be able to make my body rest through exhaustion and her practice in acupressure, but my mind?  No, my mind always takes me back to that prison, back to the shackles and the whips, and the endless labor.

I spend my time in my dreams reliving that horror - reliving the hopelessness and the fresh grief.  Now I see those terrible things in my waking state as well, always brought by a sound, a touch, or the sight of something familiar to that place.  Could it be the lack of restful sleep that causes my mental barriers to fall?

Anger is my only defense right now.  Ashlynn and Rig interprete my foul mood and harsh comments as me being the ‘grumpy older brother’, and I cannot make them understand, I do not ‘want’ them to understand why I lash out, and why I carry such rage in my heart. Anger burns away the fear and the shame at having been so defeated. 

I have to learn to overcome this, but I do not know how.  No amount of kind words or compassionate understanding makes any difference to how I feel.  It all means so very little, though I do understand that those around me are trying the best they can to help - it doesn’t. 

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