Soft scars around her torso. Soft but dangerous, just like her.
Scars that cause other people’s pity.
Scars that show her strenght.
Scars that prove that worst has passed.
The storm inside her mind is calmer now; the beast is tamer. But even when you succesfully domesticate a lion, it can still roar louder than your whispers.
Still she doesn’t let it win. It can try, but she won’t let it harm her for long.
She doesn’t own it. She is not its master; if she aims to be, she is lost and dead.
Instead she faces it as a mutual. She realizes its nature and accepts it. But doesn’t surrender to it.
She becomes smarter than her demons and keeps them down until the next fight -because it sure as hell is going to be a next fight.
They will not win again. She got a taste of what that was like and decided it is no longer an option.
She will fight until the end because the battle is better than the alternative.
There will be the occasional truce, but the war won’t end.
So she gathers up her weapons and fights for her life.