Internal Affairs

Meeting the wound

The silence between us felt different now. No longer a shield, no longer a wall—just space. Open, raw, waiting.

Beggy’s shoulders had dropped, just slightly. Her grip on her arms had loosened. She still wasn’t looking at me, but something had shifted. She wasn’t just hearing me—she was letting herself be heard.

"I see her," I said softly. "The part of you that’s afraid to lose. The part that feels like everything is slipping, like winning is the only thing keeping her afloat."

Her brows knit together, but she said nothing.

"Can we meet her?" I asked. "That part of you?"

A flicker of something—fear, hesitation. But also curiosity.

"She’s already here," Beggy whispered, as if realizing it for the first time.

I nodded.

"Close your eyes," I guided. "Just for a moment. See if you can sense her. Not as a thought, but as something real. Where is she?"

Beggy hesitated, but she did as I asked. Her breathing steadied. Her fingers twitched against her sleeves.

Then, slowly, she spoke.

"She’s small." A pause. "No… she feels small."

"What does she look like?"

Another pause. Longer this time.

"I think… I think she’s a little girl." Beggy’s voice wavered. "She’s standing in a room full of broken things. And she’s trying to fix them. But she’s too little. Her hands are too small."

I felt the weight of her words settle in my chest.

"What happens if she stops?"

Beggy swallowed hard. "Then everything stays broken."

Her voice cracked.

"And she can’t let that happen."

I exhaled slowly, steadying myself.

"Can you let her know she’s not alone?"

She stiffened. I could feel the resistance, the instinct to retreat. But then, something shifted.

Beggy inhaled, shakily, and nodded.

"I see her," she whispered. "I see her."

And for the first time, I saw Beggy see herself.