I feel like she’s the victim of domestic violence and the abusive love that is never seen has caused her slow and wondrous venture into madness. But that’s just my interpretation; these wounds it seem have no explanation but pain need not be spoken to be heard. Perhaps even she doesn’t know how she was hurt. I envy her the chance to escape into the chaotic void she once called her mind, the insanity is better than realising that life had no meaning.
“Horse gone lame? Gotta get the shotgun.”
“Ack! Wait! Um… I’m actually a dog. Ha ha.”
“You don’t look like a dog.”
“Ah… I’m an Irish deer hound. I mean… bark! Bark!”
“Oh. My apologies, miss. We’ll see to your leg then.”
“Ack! Wait! Um… I’m actually a dog. Ha ha.”
“You don’t look like a dog.”
“Ah… I’m an Irish deer hound. I mean… bark! Bark!”
“Oh. My apologies, miss. We’ll see to your leg then.”
This was during a flashback. The leg has long since healed.