I couldn’t see it coming, some say… But I did. I saw it coming. And I stood my ground, ready to take on what was approaching. It went right through me and left me to pieces. I instantly forgot I ever had legs to stand on. Sounds, colors, thoughts – it all vanished. The world melted chaotically and my brain didn’t have matter to process anything with anymore.
I hit the ground at one point. I think I did. No breath. No blink. I lost myself in a coma that took me so deep into myself that I would not reach the surface and live a pain I wouldn’t have been able to survive. I don’t know who found me, what they did to me, for how long. Something was reassembling me. There was no point to it, anyway, I was thinking between blackouts. I couldn’t feel where I was beginning from and where I was ending. No point at all…
When I was finally able to open my eyes I wanted to roar. I was nothing of what I’ve known before. I was never going to be. And I became enraged, without the possibility of screaming it out. I wanted to die, come back as new. The sky was crushing me with too much light. I was nothing.
One day, I blinked. So natural! I didn’t have to relearn that. I sat there wondering how my eyes knew how to do that, without being retaught to do it. I was still struggling to breathe. There was an emptiness where my body was supposed to be. I wished I would have been able to check if it was there.
It was. Someone was caring for my wounds. Wound. I was one sole wound from beginning to end. He was coming, changing my bandages, feeding me, checking my vital signs. He never said anything. But I knew that when he was leaving the room, he would still be keeping an eye on me. That brought me comfort. If I were to die, someone would know…
I laid there for a long time. Years passed by. Someone was thrilled to see that I was beginning to regain consciousness, raise my head and being curious about what was happening around me. In time, I began standing. Feet are for standing. Straight up. It was hard to stand and I fell many, many times. And I got scared. I laid in bed for days, paralyzed by fear, which took my will to keep trying.
Someone thinks one day I will hunt again. He didn’t say it out loud. But I was hearing, nonetheless.
Years passed by… Someone noticed that I was starting to move almost naturally, a sign that I was healed. He thought the space I was being kept in was too little for me now. So he left the door open. I began circling the room that had been my home for over four years and I hit the door with my tail twice. Then, a trance-like curiosity pushed me out. One step at a time.
Someone is still watching over me.
I’ve been back into the wild long enough to find out that I can feed myself and take care of myself. There’s always someone watching me. Recently, I’ve been hurt again. A small wound, someone would say. But I got scared. I relived the stun of the explosion and the terror of the agony that followed. I screamed. I ran. I hit things in my way. I hid. I thought I was going to die again. Until I heard someone say: “It’s a superficial wound. She’ll be fine. She’s more scared than anything else.” Someone didn’t use words. But I heard him.