The she, the she, the evil she------- If she could have found some thing of me left inside, she would have continued to bleed me. If there were any thing left, even now, I could steel myself, but there was nothing left of me when she drained me. I could only slip away in the dark, away from the door she’d closed. I thought I had known what I was doing here; deceived by her and more than deceived by my own desperate searching hopes, thinking I'd found a home a place defensible, a life. I hadn't seen them yet. I could hear their sharp panting. They weren't even trying to be quiet. And then suddenly they were being quiet. I strained to hear them. I was imagining the wolves, could feel them. Could feel their teeth closing on what was left of my dried crisp throat. I couldn't even scream. I knew I was imagining; but I could also feel the stalking behind me, the exposure my back had, exposure below my bare neck; the prickly chill, the little hairs stiffening, the cold shivering the exposure gave rise to; whirling, spinning, whirling, desperately hoping to at least see the wolf coming; turning desperately, quickly, uncertainly, first this way, then that, defending my throat and back; impossible exposure she'd left me to, feeling the premonition of a set of paws in my back, between my shoulder blades, paws leapt and placed with such force it would knock me down and teeth would fall on my neck, teeth perfectly spaced by a million years of evolution to sever my spinal cord; fitting perfectly between the bones of my naked neck. It would all be over in an instant. Or two. I shivered as I tried to keep from running too fast, away from them, away from what she'd set me into, away from her. Used up, empty. Spinning twisting running. Drained, no juices in me, emotionally naked, open to any attack, any vagaries my mind composed, attacked from fears within as well as fears without. When she shunned me, I could not turn to look back at her. She clearly meant to use me up, leaving me out here, driving me away. Was she gloating? Then. I straightened up. Strode. Strength returned. Iron will self-righteousness. Teeth clenched, Jaw jutting, fists curled and ready. . . Now that’s the spirit. ===============Okay slightly changed the person ==== The You that done it If I could find some thing of me left inside, I could steel myself, but there was nothing left of the me you drained. I could only slip away in the dark, away from the door you'd closed. I thought I had known what I was doing here; decieved by you and more decieved by my own desperate searching hopes, thinking I'd found a home a place defensible, a life. I hadn't seen them yet. I could hear their sharp panting. They weren't even trying to be quiet. And then suddenly they were being quiet. I strained to hear them. I was imagining the wolves, could feel them. Could feel their teeth closing on what was left of my dried crisp throat. I couldn't even scream. I knew I was imagining; but I could also feel the stalking behind me, the exposure my back had, exposure below my bare neck; the prickly chill, the little hairs stiffening, the cold shivering the exposure gave rise to; whirling, spinning, whirling, desperately hoping to at least see the wolf coming; turning desperately, quickly, uncertainly, first this way, then that, defending my throat and back; impossible exposure you'd left me to. feeling the premonition of a set of paws in my back, between my shoulder blades, paws leapt and placed with such force it would knock me down and teeth would fall on my neck, teeth perfectly spaced by a few million years of evolution to sever my spinal cord; fitting perfectly between the bones of my naked neck. It would all be over in an instant. Or two. I shivered as I tried to keep from running too fast, away from them, away from what you'd set me into, away from you. Used up, empty. Spinning twisting running. Drained, no juices in me, emotionally naked, open to any attack, any vagaries my mind composed, attacked from fears within as well as fears without. When you shunned me, I could not turn to look back at you. You clearly meant to use me up, leaving me out here, driving me away. Were you gloating? Then. I straightened up. Strode. Strength returned. Iron will self-righteousness. Teeth clenched, Jaw jutting, fists curled and ready. . . well you get the idea. You are good! But, now, to a story. . .