Pain Management

"After long enough, the pain becomes almost a separate being." Blount gestured, taking in his twisted leg and the layers of scar tissue that ran down his cheek and disappeared under his loose shirt. "Like an animal. I picture it as a cross between a monkey and a parrot, with clever hands and a jagged, hooked beak. Whimsical, no? I make it a pet; I teach it tricks. 'Go to sleep, wait a while.' It is persistent, unruly – like a puppy – but I manage. I reach... an accommodation. One learns to live with agony, eventually. What one cannot live with, what becomes intolerable, is the knowledge that it could have been different." He hitched himself up on his chair, meeting Kantas' eyes. "You meant it for the Dean, I know. You couldn't know that I'd borrow his car after your... tampering. But I hate you for it regardless. And what I hate, I teach it to hate, too." He gestured, and the ingrained strain lines on his face eased fractionally. He straightened like a man relieved of a load. Kantas felt something unseen land heavily on his back. Something with clever hands and a sharp, sharp beak...