"Are you... alright?" The angel looking boy asked me, concern etched across his face like an unwelcome storm cloud.
Am I alright? I don't think I am. The gaping void of despair pulled at me like a heavy anchor, dragging me deeper into an ocean of sorrow where the light barely flickered. I should be dead right now, my spirit unshackled from this hell I call home, but I wasn't. A dark irony twisted in my gut-why was I still alive? I could feel the ache of desperation swelling within me, gnawing at the last threads of my composure. Why can't I just die?
"I'm fine," I mumbled, a husk of a lie escaping my lips as I pushed away from him, scrambling off his warm body. I didn't want him to feel the weight of my anguish pressing down like the iron bars of a jail cell. His gaze lingered on me, disbelieving and gentle, and I knew he could see through the facade.
I met his eyes, and for a fleeting moment, I was struck by how strikingly beautiful he was, the sunlight spilling over his features like something out of a dream. He was good-looking-way too good-looking to care about someone like me.
"Why did you-why did you save me?" I forced the words out, my throat tight with an emotional chokehold. My eyes burned from the effort of holding back tears that felt like molten glass in my chest, threatening to spill over. Each ache in my body reminded me of the pain I carried, a reminder that my struggles were tangible, real. I'd have to live with this headache and the torment coursing through my veins-an eternal reminder of what it meant to survive.
"I couldn't just let you... jump," he answered softly, as if the act of stopping me was the most natural thing in the world. But why not? Why did he care? He knew nothing about the hell I lived in, the suffocating fear of going home to my parents, whose harsh voices reverberated like a haunting echo in my mind. He should've let me jump; it would've been a release from the relentless pain.
"You should've just let me jump," I snapped, anger flaring like fire in my chest. The words dripped with bitterness, each one sharp and jagged, reflecting the rage twisting within me.
"You still have so much to live for." His voice was steady. I could see the concern in his eyes, but the world around me felt dark and suffocating. Live for what? He didn't understand the weight of the chains binding me-he didn't know I'd spent years trapped in a cycle of abuse and neglect, drowning in shame and struggle. I had nothing left, no hope, no reason to go on.
"No, I don't," I managed to say, frustration bubbling to the surface. I clenched my fists, nails biting into my palms as if that physical pain could anchor me to reality and shield me from the growing waves of despair. Somewhere in me, deep down, a part wanted to reach out for help, to grasp the lifeline he was offering. But too many times had I reached for comfort only to be met with rejection; I couldn't afford to be vulnerable now.
"Why do you care? You don't even know me," I added, voice trembling as vulnerability seeped in, trying to claw its way out. I watched as he stayed silent, his lips pressing into a thin line. He was still holding my hand tightly, and it didn't seem like he'd let go anytime soon. His hands were warm and soft, they were tiny too, almost like a child's hand.
"Just let me die" I whispered, that's all I want. To escape this place.
"I don't wanna lose a stranger that might mean so much" I heard him mumble. What would I mean to him? Why does he want me to live so much anyway? Would I really mean something to him? Maybe there was something in life more than just this...
But there isn't, I can't go back there- I can't go back to my parents. My head ached from just thinking about them, I felt tears forming back into my eyes as I thought about them. That's the only place I would have to go, I don't have any where else to go other than that. I don't wanna go back there, I never wanna go back.
"You don't know anything about me, you don't know what I've been through, you don't know anything!" I sob.
I just want this all to be over.
