“I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free (human) being with an independent will.”― Charlotte Brontë
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(August)
I knew I shouldn't, but I was so tired and I didn't want to deny myself of this small comfort. It was rare anyone would show this kind of concern for me. I had always been pretty aloof and self-sufficient, and no one had ever tended to my wound.
The last person who did was my mother... and thinking about my mother still hurt me like nothing else in the world would. She died when I was just around eighteen.
"Come on," she prompted.
It really was a small wound, and it would probably heal in a minute or so, but... I wanted to let her take care of me. Could I not want something as simple as this?
"You are a freaking kitty cat." Blaze commented with a smirk.
"
