“Time heals all wounds”, another lie they tell. First a hit, a flash of blood. The pain comes later, with the ache. A scab, maybe stitches or staples to close the hole.
A painful scar, red and swollen, tender. It has to be in a place that you hit against everything around you. Probably, on the side you sleep on so it wakes you up in the night.
So you start to heal. You can sleep through the night, sometimes. The wheal is less noticeable. People ask about it less often. It’s old news.
I wish it was me. It should have been. But, he was there instead. Always there at my back, covering me.
The New Word Wars 