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Her head hurts. God, her head hasn't stopped hurting. It was pain-free for a little while, a few months maybe. And that was nice, being able to just exist without having to hurt.
It didn't last long. And now her head hurts.
When she was all higher-power her head didn't hurt. She didn't even have a head. Or eyes. Or anything. But it was weird, like she was herself but not whole.
She's not herself now. For sure, she's not herself. And it's not like she can do anything about it.
At first she stayed in her head (it was her head but it's not her head but it's difficult to explain). At first she could only watch. It's not like she didn't try. She swears to god she tried. She promises she tried. She screamed and yelled and tried. But it made no difference. Her body wouldn't listen. The thing inside her body wouldn't listen. Or maybe it did. If it was listening it probably enjoyed it. It seemed like that kind of person (or thing? She's not completely sure. Maybe she doesn't want to be).
And it's not like she's not scared. She is scared. She promises. If fear was enough to fix it then she would just wake up from all this and come back into her body and cuddle the baby and put him to bed and sleep, finally sleep, and everything would go back to normal and be happy and safe and quiet.
Even though it was never really quiet. It's always been loud. But good loud. Easy loud. Noise that she's known and felt safe in. And at least her friends could hear her. At least her friends could look into her face and see her. Not just look at her eyes or whatever's in there.
She would take higher-being over this anytime. And higher-being sucked, like bad. Way boring. But at least it was warm, and bright. Now, it's kinda like someone put the lights out. Maybe this is what's it's always been like inside her head. She's not sure. Has the inside of her head always been this dark? It sure hasn't felt like it. She had thought she was a good person. Or at least becoming one. Maybe she was going to become a good person. She'll probably never know. Not now.
She's pretty sure she could have become good. She promises she would try. If she could just wake up, she would try, properly try this time.
At first she stayed behind her eyes, it's eyes. And she saw her friends, and she could look at them and cry for them and hurt for them. She couldn't touch them. Not like she didn't try.
She did her very best to make it difficult, to try and hurt it or stop it. To try and stop it from using her skin, from using her face. It wore her face differently. Eyes down and slow words.
Cordelia wore her face much better. She misses smiling.