HOW WONDROUS YOU ARE!

Needles. Scabs.

Welts, still fresh, still painful.

And scars. Oh, so many scars, all over the body.

Some healed, some fresh and bleeding.

Someone is bathing you. Water cascades all over the welts, scalding hot, but you stay still. Hands are scrubbing you, but they are unseeing, unmindful of the bruises your body carries.

Then, you are at a table, being fed.

You do feel her love and her protection at times. You understand her sometimes.

How she must have gotten here. The tribulations she has faced and passed through.

That’s why she is like this.

It's dinner time again.

A family is eating the food she provided.

Then.

She stands up, holding her needle.

It’s a long, thin, and very sharp thing that glints in the light.

It hurts.

Oh, you know how it hurts.

It’s a ritual you all go through whenever the mood strikes.

She stands up and starts stabbing the ones dining. No one makes a sound. If you do, you are asking for more.

If you do, she will say that you are taking the needle and stabbing her with it.

The needle is always in her hands.

Always.

But is tonight your night? If you remain silent, keep your head down, you might not get the needle tonight.

A good thing. A bad thing.

So round she goes.

A stab for each.

Then, after, it's wash time.

You sit still, bleeding from head to toe.

She tells you that there is no one like her.

You know.

There is no one as good, compromising, and kind as her.

You understand.

It is true; there is no one like her.

So you sit still, as she stirs her pot, unseeing of the pool of blood that is now flowing towards her, from where you sit in it.

She must be right.

She asks you again, do you see why? I do this because!

Because because because!

And your answer is always the same.

Yes! I know! I see! I understand!

Always.

There is no one else who is better than me, for you. Do you see?

Yes! How wondrous you are! I see!

You believe it.

You really do.