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    Summary

    Rudo doesn’t remember a time his hands didn’t hurt. It’d be weirder for him to try and imagine a time they didn’t hurt, because then he’d be making shit up, and Rudo was never good with his imagination. Not with things he didn’t understand, couldn’t understand. It just made him… weird. Well, weirder. Distant. The thoughts would spiral, spinning and spinning till they left him dizzy, body threatening to throw up all his gross, rotted insides all over his shoes and then he’d be pissed off and confused and… empty. So, so empty. But then the pain would remind him he was real and rotted and then he wouldn’t feel so empty because the pain would fill him up, up, up. No empty space left to worry about.

    That pain was everything, it was all he’d ever known. That persistent, prickling, nerve pinching pain of whatever fucked up shit his parents persecuted their infant son to has been like a phantom in his bones since before, well, just before. Before Regto. Everything before Regto was bad and terrible and something to be forgotten. Before Regto was painful, pure agony. And now, after Regto…

    It was unbearable.

    Or: This is a story about hurting. This is a story about healing.

    Language:
    English
    Words:
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    Chapters:
    5/?
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