thoughts from a dark hole

my story, part ii

Trigger Warning!! Self-harming thoughts and depressive spiraling.

The girl sat on the grass,

Repacking her bag with her things,

Thrown hurriedly around the tent earlier.

She was fifteen now,

Her hair grown out, wavy, and held up in a ponytail,

Cold brown eyes hidden behind purple frames,

And the quietness reserved for the broken.

Her teammates sat beside her,

Talking and laughing as they relaxed,

Quietly making it home for her.

He stood up and walked over to her,

Sitting beside her on the grass,

He just watched her, not expecting words,

For she never said much.

When he spoke it was quietly,

And nobody heard him but her,

"Can I help you?".

She looked up sharply,

Her eyes staring into his,

Trying to gauge what he said,

For he never helped her, but she didn't mind that.

She looked at the backpack in her hands,

And the purple-and-black hat on his head,

And smiled as she realized that they matched.

"You never help me," She said,

But gently, so it didn't come out wrong,

Gently, so she wouldn't hurt him,

Gently, so she didn't give too much of her heart away.

He said nothing,

Leaving her to her thoughts, for he knew her,

"Okay," She said finally, "You can help me."

He smiled as he passed her her sweatpants,

Which had somehow moved into his pile, 

And watched her as she carefully smoothed them,

Then, with shaking hands, folded them.

"Your hands," He said, motioning to the girl's hands.

"They shake when you fold."

She didn't meet his gaze, instead looking across the horizon.

He sensed that he had said something wrong,

And whispered, "Sorry for saying that,

I... Shouldn't have, Ava."

The girl's head didn't turn; she didn't want him to see her tears.

"I will never be a good person," She whispered to herself,

As she touched the tiny turtle hung around her neck,

A gift from her father that she'd been wearing that day, five years ago.

"I will never be a good person,

Because I cannot love,

And what is humanity without love?

Without love, there is no existence."

He watched her, blue eyes tender,

As the thin fingers spun a carved turtle.

"You're wrong," He said. "You're already good."

She turned to him sharply,

Then turned away, wiping her eyes,

But he had already seen the tears,

And he knew why she cried, even if she didn't.

"You can't be right,

I'm not good, I can't be.

I've done so much bad in my life."

He watched her as her body seemed to shrink into itself,

And his arm shot out as he tried to keep her upright,

As her shaking, cold body lapsed back into its silence,

As she shoved his arm away with a gasp.

"I'm sorry, but you can't just give up."

He stared the girl down, smoothing a flyaway from her ponytail.

"I... I love you, Ava. There's people here who love you."

He said nothing about his father,

Who whipped him as a child,

And lived like he was the perfect father,

Until his brother killed himself, unable to please their father.

She looked at him, seeming to sense a pain,

Deep down in the few convincing words he said,

And slowly, she nodded.

Her eyes filled with tears and she reached out,

He held her in a hug and her body shook,

As years' worth of bottled-up tears broke free,

And this boy, who knew them so well, held her steady.

She knew that she would never tell him,

He knew that he would never tell her,

But in that moment, they didn't need details.

They understood each other,

And, for that moment,

The girl, broken at ten, made an adult as a child,

Finally felt at peace, for the first time since.

And she let him go.