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Well maybe not the soldiers running around the jungle seeking revenge part, but the split thoughts part.Some of those memories are so painful, I expect that we all tend to bury them for years. Even buried memories come back to visit now and then, like bad chili.As I walked along in the very front of our little group, I was isolated, not by distance so much as by who I was. It was as simple as that. I wasn't like the others and I really never had been. I was, of course, even less like them at. Unke gaal pe kiss kiya fir unke hothon pe apna hont rakh ke kiss karne laga. Woh apna muh alag karke boli, “Ye kya kar rahe ho?” Main bola, “Main jo kar raha hun wohi karo tum.” Woh bhi sath dene lagi use maja ane laga unki saanse tej hone lagi.Woh mere balon pe hath phaira rahi thi maine apna hath unke blouse mein dala hath nahi jaa raha tha. Unhone khud apna blouse khol diya. Maine unki saadi ki palu gira diya. Main unki doodh ko masal ne laga. Unki mun se siskariyan aana chalu ho gaya. Main. “You know how childish I can get sometimes,” I told him. He scoffed at that. I pretended to be offended that he agreed and gave him a little slap on the shoulder, keeping my hand on his shoulder.“Sometimes you’re just bad, mother,” he said.“I can’t help it.”I touched his neck. His face. Stared into his anguished eyes. Moved my face closer to his. He blinked, a little confused. And I gave him such a sympathetic look, the kind I used to give him when he was confessing to something he did bad. I. By the time I had arrived my arm and shirt were covered in my own blood.A plastic surgeon was called in to see me after I’d been on a gurney about twenty minutes, my chest shaved and an IV plugged into my arm. He examined my damaged tissues. “What the hell did this to you,” he asked. Clearly, bedside manner wasn’t his highest priority.“My ex-girlfriend and these; please don’t handle them. I’m an attorney and I may need them for some future criminal or civil action.” He looked at me.
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