He clearly remembers being afraid. He was always afraid. His earliest emotional memory is being scared. He has suffered years and years of being frightened. Childhood. Adolescence.

As an adult, his gruff and stony exterior helped to mask his fear from the world. It was all an act. An attempt to hide, to camouflage himself. To keep his demons buried deep within. To hide that terrified little boy.

His shame.

His self loathing.

Every single fucking insecurity.

It’s taken a long time, but he is finally no longer afraid. He had to become completely broken to release the fear; he was shattered, splintered and fragmented. His scars are visible to those who truly know him. He looks in the mirrors and sees the stitches, the patches, the joins.

A Modern Prometheus.

His scars are evidence of his survival. A permanent reminder of where he came from and what he has managed to become.

The future is filled with hope. A future without fear.