in the back, and even this is welcome as it diverts from the pain in head and heart, but not enough, Just end it, that's what I tell myself, but foolish me, commands do not exist. I reach into my purse, grab hold of the taser, and point it at myself. I breathe heavy, I must work up the courage every time, because all pain is remembered, even if these are mere fractions compared with what wracks my head. The taser's twin tips nuzzle my body, I press the contact, breath is trapped, my head is flung back and I am staring at the car's upholstered ceiling, my eyes are the only thing that move, everything else is locked, as if chains have been through around me and pulled. It is an interesting sensation, and I muse about it like a scientist, as an experiment is balanced on the edge between hope and fruition. And then the muscles contract, stretch, pull, breath dies in my throat, even the air is wrenched now. No good, I am still conscious.
 | | One more time. I am building an immunity to this, like I did with the pills. The record is five times, or that is as far as I remember. So once again, prods to skin, activate. There is a moment before I black out, and that moment is a tide, a blessing, feeling dribbling away from limbs, heart, mind, cracking and chipping off like paint, and I look at my sweaty face in the rear-view mirror. A pleasant sight, just like when I was a child and I admired myself after an entire afternoon of playing, and there was no injustice, no fear, no righteousness, because it was what it was. Sweat away your troubles, blood, sweat, and tears, and I hear Mother now, calling for dinner. Ready, she shouts, Ready I shout back to her, confirmation and emulation, Ready.
The opposing army was approaching. News spread among the occupying soldiers that their comrades stationed at the next town down the
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