Needed You

Chapter Two

Trigger warnings - mention of suicide, mention of abuse, injury, objectification of women
———

five years ago

There isn't an inch of me that doesn't sing with pain.

Agony, would be a more fitting word for it, except the moment I measure it, acknowledge just how badly I hurt, I wouldn't second guess throwing myself over the cliff.

I strike the tears that stream silently down my face. I'm not crying over him, or even crying over what he's done, because there isn't a little bit of me that wants to offer him that sort of satisfaction - I'm crying because this is the closest I've come to doing it.

It wasn't a fleeting thought. It was a note on my bedside table, a farewell kiss to my sleeping sister's forehead. It was leaving the keys to my car in the ignition, because I wouldn't need it way down there, so the people in Slipway might as well get some use out of it. Hopefully it takes them further than me.

I'm crying because even after all of it, even after every well thought decision, and every impulsive choice, as I'd stood on the edge, I couldn't make myself fall over it. All I saw was my sister growing up to become the exact same victim I had. I've saved her eight years - thrown myself in front of her every time to protect the child that she is. If I'm gone, all I will have achieved would be leaving the path towards her open, unshielded. She'll be stood here, some years later, if she makes it that far, and there will be nothing to keep her feet on the ground. That's what hurt most - the fact that me leaving might be what means she dies this way too.

The drizzly rain has washed the blood from my forehead, leaving only the smarting of a new bruise. A good one - dark purple that I won't be able to cover with makeup, and will linger for weeks around swelling and a scabbed graze. I won't be able to pick out the new bruises on my limbs from the old ones, but this is the first time he's hit my face. Something about it feels like a success - like the world is finally going to see what marks mar the rest of me, and have for the past ten years. Not that the people of Merridge will do anything about it other than gossip. Still, it serves as a realisation that he doesn't care to be precise with his attacks anymore. That I'll likely have several more marks on my face in the months to come.

I watch the horizon with as much interest as I can gather. It's not particularly pretty to look at right now. The sky is as grey as the water, and there is no telling where one finishes, and the other begins. It's dismal and dark, shielding the sun completely from view, while the stormy ocean below crashes loud enough to disguise any other sound of life. Though I can't see them, I know white, frothy waves slap against the cliff face, climbing as high as they can reach before running down the rocks back home. They'll settle, eventually, still out to something almost calm, but right now it's as though they strive to match the anger within my heart, crying out as loud as I wish I would.

"You're in my spot."

I spin to face the voice, not too concerned with hiding my tears, or the blood, or the bruise. It's been years of hiding, and I'm tired. Let my presence be as unbidden as the waves below. For once, let someone be as wary of me as they are the storming sea.

Levi Meyer looks down at me. It's the first time we've shared conversation, as one sided as it currently is. I'd been lucky to stay off of his radar when we went to school together, and I assumed, since we left, there wouldn't be a chance of me running into him again. Yet, he's right. I've imposed myself on his spot - the cliff in Slipway.

I wipe at my nose, small flakes of dried blood scattering my hand. "Sorry. Didn't see a reserved sign when I got here."

He snorts, small smile pulling at his lips, and the slight scar just above it. One from his many, many fights. "Was it the same attitude that saw you get a beating?"