you're yesterday's child to me
#17
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He'd been the same once, and he knew it. Insecurity was a bitch when all-encompassing amnesia struck; when he first woke in that puddle of his own blood--soaked in it, tasting it in his mouth--he hardly knew he was even alive. He hadn't known what living was, but he knew he'd been hurt somehow and that he couldn't remember a thing. It had felt his mind was covered in cobwebs, like no train of thought had passed through in a number of months. His eye had been pounding, and opening it was impossible. The amount of blood was invisible to his sight even when the eye was opened--he was half-blind and couldn't remember a thing. I'll call myself Jefferson, he'd told himself after he'd struggled to read the name on a sign where he'd woken up. At least until I can remember.


He never did. His eye never opened again.


She understood when he had told her to keep quiet. He almost wished she hadn't; she was becoming a subordinate of his, and he didn't like it. Jefferson missed her spark already, her smile. The two recalled when the half-dead hybrid collapsed onto Phoenix Valley borders that first time, not at all knowing what answers and adventures laid there in waiting. Deuce had shooed him away; Iskata had let him stay. She was... different, then. "What happened?" He said quietly, eye turning back to her. When had she ever been against coyotes? Wasn't he already supposed to know this?

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