Yara stumbled deeper into the forest, the trees towering around her like silent sentinels. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of her thoughts pressing down on her chest. She had run away from her mother's hollow words and empty promises, seeking solace in the embrace of nature, but instead found only the echoes of her own despair. Sinking to the damp earth, Yara wrapped her arms around her knees. The chill in the air seeped into her bones as she stared at the ground, fighting back tears that threatened to spill over. Memories flooded her mind—her
father's laughter, warm and reassuring, now a distant whisper. He had been her anchor, a gentle light in the chaos of her childhood. Losing him had felt like losing a part of herself, and her mother's neglect had only deepened that chasm. "What would you have done, Dad?" she whispered into the silence. The wind rustled the leaves, as if in response, but the forest held no answers. Just shadows. Barbra's face flashed in her memory—always the bright spark, always ready to pull Yara from the depths of her sorrow with laughter and adventures. They had shared dreams, secrets, and a bond that felt unbreakable.
And then there was Marcus. The way he smiled at her, that warmth in his eyes that made her heart race. He had never seen her as just the girl with the broken home; he had seen her strength, the light that flickered even when she couldn't see it herself. But now, what good was a future filled with unspoken words and missed chances? She could still hear the soft laughter they shared, the way he'd teased her about being a "dark cloud." If only he knew how true that felt now. Yara took a shaky breath, feeling the forest close in around
her. "I'm so tired," she murmured, the weight of her heartache feeling insurmountable. She envisioned a life without the constant ache, without the shadows of her past lingering in every corner. The thought of escape was seductive, a siren's call in the dark. But as she sat there, a flicker of doubt crept in. She thought of Barbra, of Marcus—of the way the world could change when someone reached out a hand. The pain felt insurmountable, yet somewhere deep inside. As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows through the trees, Yara closed her eyes. And reached into her pocket. The blade shimmered in the moonlight that was surrounding the place like a blanket. With a deep breath, she pushed herself up, brushing dirt from
her jeans. She looked at the object in her hands, the only thing that has brought her home in the way it offered her a sense of control, a familiar presence in moments of chaos. It became a tool for coping, a way to release pent-up emotions or to feel something tangible in the midst of numbness. In that way, it seemed like comforting, a misguided refuge that brought a temporary sense of relief. But under all that was it was despair leaving scars that served as a constant reminder of the struggle. Like a home that turns into a place of turmoil, the knife can transform from a source of comfort into an instrument of harm, illustrating the precarious balance between seeking solace and inflicting pain. I slowly brought it to my wrist and cut deep deeper than I've ever cut before. The blood ran down my arm like a waterfall. The pain that I usually felt was
gone. As I began to lose blood, a strange calm enveloped me. I stumbled and fell to the cool, soft earth, the impact grounding me in a way that felt oddly reassuring. Gazing upward, the tall trees stretched into the night sky, their leaves whispering in the gentle breeze. The moon shone brightly above, casting a silver glow that seemed to wrap around me like a comforting blanket.
In that moment, everything felt both vivid and distant. The world was quiet, the soft rustle of leaves becoming a lullaby that pulled me deeper into tranquillity. I felt the warmth ebbing away, a gentle retreat rather than a sudden loss. My thoughts began to drift, each heartbeat echoing softly in my ears.
As I lay there, the beauty of the night wrapped around me, and I found myself slipping into a dreamlike state. The moonlight felt like a guardian, watching over me as I slowly surrendered to the darkness. My vision blurred, and with a final, peaceful breath, I let go, drifting into unconsciousness, embraced by the stillness of the night.
YOU ARE READING
I had so much left to say
Teen FictionI let the tears fall down my cheeks, The gnawing pain in my chest only grew until it was too much for me to take. I reached into my bedside table and pulled out a small blade. I wanted the pain gone, I needed it gone. I opened the small pocket knife...
