She would listen. I knew Adonie would listen. I hated the trap of needing to speak but I could recognize it. I had always been the listener or I had been silent. I had had that strength and that endurance. But I knew I could not remain silent as I had been without....There was a way through. There might be. Sometimes I thought there might be and lashed at myself for being such a fool, a fool! Again.

 

 

Had I not learned? I had vowed never, ever again to....

 

 

Was it weakness, a fault, childishness, the sure wrap of the powerless victim to speak or was it wisdom, perspective, courage?
Did all the strong at some necessary point in their lives sink wimpering to their knees begging for help?

 

 

Was it merely, simply, human?

 

 

Or had I deluded myself, never having been strong at all but rather lacking and damaged from the start?

 

 

Vacillation, need, resistance, loathing.
Fire, ice.
Need.

 

 

My head hummed with voices. Maybe they were all me, speaking, declaring, importuning, needing.

 

 

Needing the outrage to end.
Needing to be understood.
Rest.
Fighting it.
Adonie would listen.
She was listening already.