I remember the Spring.
What started as screams are now nothing but whispers, and even those soft voices are fading fast. One by one the demons inside me are going silent. They do not leave - where would they go? Instead, they sleep. They sleep and they dream of sweet things.And now, they stir.
They stretch their limbs and they yawn. Like a pile of kittens, they untangle themselves from each other, and they stand on wobbly legs, and they open their eyes.
"Something is happening," they whisper among themselves.
I can hear them.