I grinned stupidly, my whole body hurt but it felt good to win. She ruffled the top of my head, her fingers getting stuck in my hair as she smiled down at me proudly.

“Make sure you are patched up for tomorrow.” She left, as I remained reverling in my excitement.

It always felt good to win a fight. It always felt better when I was needed in its victory. It felt best when I was helping her.

I was her trusty spade, and she was my ace. I felt needed when I was with her. When I helped her. I didn’t need to feel needed, I wanted to. It’s the cool feeling you get at night, the one that washes away all your worries and prepares you for the most rejuvenating sleep of your life.

“Come eat.” She patted the seat beside her, there was only one plate, but I knew that just meant we’d share the food on hers. “You did good today.” She smiled as I took the fork she handed me. She laid her hand which was propped up by her elbow. “Are you feeling ready for tomorrow?”

“Of course!” I said with a mouthful of food in my mouth. I loved helping, it knew that if I helped, she’d help me when I needed her in the future.

That was what we did, we helped each other. I mean I was doing most of the helping as of late, but she helped. She made me food, kept me housed, and bathed. She even gave me money to go out into town every so often. She wasn’t mean. She was never mean. She was always so nice and sweet to me that I had no reason not to help her. We were friends, and helping friends reach their goal was what friends did.

“Shit, shit shit.” My world spinned as her hastened voice entered my ears. “Shit,” I think she was shaking me, or maybe it was the blow that I sustained against my head. “Quincy.” Her voice was worried, concerned even. “Shit.” But not for me. Quickly the only warmth that I was left with was pouring out of the gash on my head.

I never thought that she would abandon me. Leave me to be captured by the same people she had me slaughtered. They hated me. Their prisoners hated me. They didn’t just hate me. They hated you. They despise us. Even if Satan stood in front of them himself they still would have hated us more. We injured them. We killed their friends and their family. And you just left me with them.

“Shit” Was the last thing you said to me. “Shit.” That was all you had to say to me. “Shit.” You were hardly thinking beyond the fact that you had lost your weapon. “Shit.” You didn’t care that your friend had gotten hurt, “Quincy.” You had said my name for years, but you said it before you left me. “Shit.” Because you couldn’t even leave on a good note.

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I wonder what I was to you.

A weapon? I certainly wasn’t a friend. Was I just a utility to you for that goal you yearned for? Was I just one of the many steps to the staircase that led you to what you wanted? Was I just a stepping stone to your success? Was I even human to you? I must have been. You called me by my name before you left me. You knew I had a name. I wasn’t just ‘hey’, ‘you’, ‘sweetie’, or ‘kid’, I was Quincy. I wasn’t just some sword. I was a living breathing weapon.  That’s all you saw me as, a weapon. A machete, a bomb for your mass destruction. 

I don’t blame myself for helping you. I understood completely why I had, and I don’t think if I could go back in time, knowing what I know now, I wouldn’t have helped you. Everytime, without fail, you were there. When I was helpless. You helped. You lifted me up when no one else would. 

Back then did you just see me as a fallen sword? One with some needed TLC. One that if they got that TLC would be the shiniest of the bunch? Did you see my potential and capitalize it? Or were you just as surprised as I was when it happened? Did you even know what you were getting into when you helped me? Did you? Because when you left me, there to our enemies, it felt like you did. That you knew exactly what you were doing when you helped me. That you didn’t care at all for me, despite the affection you showered on me.

I was confused. I still am. I thought you loved me, everything you did told me you cared. Yet when I was no longer useful to you… You left. Was I beyond repair? Could I no longer be of assistance to you? Was that it? One bad hit and I was out? You’ll find someone new? Someone better? Someone shiny? One that would be me but better? 

I knew there wasn’t anyone better than me. I knew what I was. I knew as soon as you knew. But maybe you didn’t realize that I knew. You didn’t know that I knew how great I was. You thought I still needed you? That I couldn’t go on if I was without you. You thought that and still left me.

Why would I need someone like that? Someone who saw me as nothing more than a weapon? Nothing more than a pet? I thought I needed you despite knowing my own strength. Maybe that's why you got confused. Maybe that’s why I’m still confused.

It was easy to break out of that prison they sent me to when I broke out of the prison you made for me. I knew my strength but only ever let you use it. I let you give me all the needed TLC when it should have come from within. I let you call me sweetie, even though my name was Quincy. I let you spoon feed me, bath me, and house me, when I was perfectly capable of doing it myself.

I didn’t need you. I thought I needed you. I needed you at one point in my life, but you overstayed your welcome. You were the one who needed me. You became nothing without me. Do you even still exist? Because, despite everything, despite all the love, all the pain that you dealt me, I still can’t even remember your name.