Innervation

Harsh words sting the back of my neck and my heart pulses erratically; I am filled with trepidation. Threatening questions are heaved upon me and in the time period I don’t answer, my safety hastily dwindles. My legs begin to quiver as he advances toward me and I back away, freezing and gulping down breaths. I let him shriek at me until his spit drips down my face; I don’t bother to wipe it away. Any movement with ignite another wave of explosions.

He leaves with given time and I am left to devour my thoughts. Anger. I despise it; I try so hard to keep my emotions controlled and rational, constructing a wall. My dander peeps when jolted roughly and thrown down, left alone to tend to my wounds. My enemies betrayal and lies; I want nothing to do with. When emotions flare, I jab sharp words, the pitch in my voice higher and perturbed. This part of me is bound to chains through a jungle of vines, where I shackle all the other thorns that cleave through my neck.   

Icicles form along my skin, the cold innervation tearing my sensory nerves and covering every living cell of my body. Growing internally, the icicles mutilate my skin to shreds, blood bursting and a numbness screaming in my mind. It slices everything I am and forms a being unrecognizable.

“What an ice queen,” my friend mutters under her breath. I sigh to her reply of my expressionless face. If only you knew what I didn’t want revealed.