Desperate Cries
by Mackenzie Anderson
Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Don't own any of it. Oh, the song I used is called 'Who Am I' but ... since that was an ep of Buffy, I changed the title...
Author's Notes: This is getting way longer than I expected... hope you're not getting bored of it! And this sets the stage for the next one... if you're not a fan of angst, you're going to hate the next part...

	"You there with your bag of gold 
	Thought you had it all together 
	But your hands are empty 
	Does it matter now 
	The pain it caused you cannot measure"

The kiss deepens, and your hand slowly moves to cup my breast.  I tense, and you pause.
"Faith?" you ask questioningly.
But I'm not here.  I'm lost in memories.
My eyes squeeze tightly shut, and I try to forget.  
"I can't," I choke out, and I run from the room.

	"But who am I? 
	Who am I to compare my pain to yours? 
	Suffering is sweet agony 
	Who am I to compare my pain to yours? 
	My suffering must mean something"

Gods, Buffy.  You think you have it so bad.  You always have.  And you're so fucking lucky.  
You have everything.
All I have are scars.

	"So, hey there, quit imagining 
	That you have left this life 
	Your eyes are tired and your feet are worn 
	No, no one seems to hear your desperate cries"

I don't chase after you.  I'm stunned, frozen in pain.  I risked everything.  
But it was a mistake.  
Why did I rush you?
I run after you, and I see you sitting on the side of the road, and I see a tear fall.

	"But who am I?"

"It's nothing," I say when you ask.  "Really, I'm five by five.  Moved too fast, y'know?"
You don't look convinced.
I swallow, trying to hide my discomfort.
You have to believe me.

	"If I believe that's the truth 
	Then I believe you 
	If that's the way it should be 
	Then I believe you"

I sigh.  I don't believe you, but what am I going to do?
You obviously don't want to talk about it, and I'm not going to make you.
I never have...
You always listen to my problems, but I never hear yours.
You just sit there.
I love you.
But... you'll tell me if you're ready, right?
So I'll just pretend.
"Sure... let's just go back to the room."

	"Who am I to compare my pain to yours? 
	Suffering is sweet agony 
	Who am I to compare my pain to yours? 
	My suffering must mean something"

I nod, relieved.  "Yeah."
We're silent.
Again.
Seems we can't escape it.
The past follows us everywhere.
I break it.
"B.  I have to tell you something."
You look at me hopefully.

	"Must mean something to you, to me"

"The last person who said they loved me..."
You pause, looking nervous.
"Raped me."
And the world crashes down.
I thought I had it bad...

	"It's true 
	Who am I..."

...continued in Damaged...