Trauma is a strange thing.
You can live with it for years, carry it around like an old scar that doesn't ache anymore.
You can convince yourself it's healed, that you're fine, that everything is behind you.
But it only takes a moment, a word, a memory, a fleeting image, to unravel it all.
Suddenly, the emotions you thought were buried resurface, raw and unrelenting, stronger than they ever were before.
For Damon, it wasn't just a memory. It was a presence, always there, lingering in the corners of his mind like a shadow he could never outrun.
The scar on his back wasn't just a mark of what had happened; it was a reminder of everything he'd lost.
A normal family.
A childhood.
A sense of safety.
And in that reminder, a dark truth settled deep in his chest.
He wasn't healed.
He wasn't okay.
And maybe he never had been.
The weight of it pressed down on him, suffocating and unyielding.
