𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘, ronance

FOUR

WARNING:
this chapter will contain depictions of self-harm, suicide, and a car accident. please take care of yourself and consider whether you are comfortable with proceeding.

۵

the darkness presses in around me, the weight of it crushing me beneath its unyielding embrace. i toss and turn in bed, my mind a whirlwind of fragmented memories and haunting dreams that refuse to let me rest.

i hear her laughter echoing in the darkness like a haunting melody as the fireworks go off, lighting up her face in colours of violet, red, and blue.

but just as quickly as she appeared, she's gone, disappearing into the darkness like smoke slipping through my fingers.

i watch myself look over at her, and then the car starts to skid.

the sound of screeching tires and shattering glass ring in my ears like a symphony as i watch helplessly from the kerb. i try to scream, to reach out and stop it from happening, but my voice is lost in the air, swallowed up by the void that surrounds me.

i feel a sense of desperation welling up inside me, a primal need to do something, anything, to change the outcome.

but it's too late.

with a deafening crunch of metal, i sit bolt upright in bed, my heart hammering in my chest. i feel beside me for robin's hand— but she's not there.

i gasp for air, the remnants of the nightmare still clinging to the recesses of my mind as i glance around the room, the shadow's dancing in the dim light of the moon as i try to ground myself in reality.

i reach for my phone, my hands trembling as i dial robin's number, desperate for the sound of her voice to chase away the shadows that threaten to consume me.

hiya, this is robin. leave a message
and i'll get back to you asap.

i hang up, tossing the phone on the bed as i scramble out from underneath the duvet.

and then i see it, the glint of metal catching my eye as i reach for the drawer beside my bed, the razor nestled among the clutter like a serpent waiting to strike.

and all i feel as i take the razor between my fingers is unrelenting, unbearable pain as the pervasive sense of hopelessness parades around inside my head.

i'm sorry scribbled frantically with a pen.

one slash down my right forearm.

i'm on my knees, wondering what fresh hell god has in store for me next.

a second slash down my left.

i can't feel the tears, but somehow, i know they're there— hot and unbridled as they slide down my cheeks, pooling on the carpet with fresh blood.

my head starts to spin, and a shiver runs down my spine as i lean my head back against the bed-frame.

this is it.

this is the end.

until the door opens, and in she walks.