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The fourth of July, 2016 2:22 AM, Monday
It's cold, and I'm alone.
So cold that I can feel the breeze dry off the blood on my aching wrists. Hell, it hurts.
The waves are as gentle as the soothing hand of a mother, caressing the shore with minimal force, creating a pleasing sound.
Not to mention the celestial pearl that guides the night, illuminating the right path for me to go on as its light reflects in the sea. A distorted image that resonates with agitation.
I take another slow step towards death.
A relaxing end, right? Surely, drowning is definitely mild. When the water enters your lungs and it starts to sting— the regret that settles in almost immediately. Fighting back to get back to the surface but you realize you have no more power to go on.
It's peaceful, really.
Will it hurt? I'm wondering because I heard that it's one of the worst ways to die. But I can handle some pain. I mean, that's what I've been doing all this time.
Surviving wounds more. Way, way more.
So I keep on walking even though my heart tells me to go back home. But how can I? Why on earth would I go back to that nightmare?
I'd much rather get stung by ten hundred bees at the same time. Or peel the flesh off myself slowly. Or fall from a three-story building, knowing that wouldn't kill me.
A deep sigh parts my chapped lips when my mind accepts that I have arrived.
Finally, this is the end.
As I slowly drag my body to the shore, my foot hits something. I trip and feel myself falling. I don't stop the fate.
Though someone else does.
Soft, moist hands wrap around my waist. It's like in those cliché romance movies, my mind thinks while my body jerks away. The grip is too strong, I suppose we both got startled by each other.
I hate being touched and the fact that a complete stranger who could be an old creep is so close to me feels extremely wrong.
Right, who is it?
My stare moves from the ground to the hands attached to my waist and then slowly to meet the face of the culprit.
We both look at each other and the world stops, or at least it seems like it. He's pretty, I think.
Although it's pitch black, because of the proximity given I can figure out his facial features. His eyes look brown, a very dark shade.
He has long eyelashes and big eyes. But what stands out the most to me are his cheeks— they look chubby, squishy.
