Against the Edge

The Darkness Within

Blanca guided Miguel gently into his apartment, her arm wrapped securely around him as he leaned against her for support. His exhaustion was evident, and she could feel the lingering tension in his every step.

Once inside, Miguel wordlessly trudged to his room, collapsing onto the bed without a second thought, still in his hoodie and shoes. He closed his eyes, his brows furrowed with unspoken worries. Blanca sighed softly, then knelt down to untie his sneakers, carefully slipping them off and setting them neatly on the shoe rack. She moved around his room in silence, her presence comforting and steady, grounding him in a way he desperately needed.

After a few moments, Miguel managed to lift his head, attempting a weak smile. "Thanks, Blanca," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're... too good to me."

Blanca returned his smile, brushing a stray hair from his forehead. "You don't have to thank me. I'll always be here for you," she replied softly. She knew he was struggling, could see the weight of his worries and the toll of his recent trauma, and it made her chest ache.

Miguel swallowed, forcing himself to sit up a little, though his body screamed for rest. He didn't want Blanca to worry more than she already had, and he needed some time to pull himself back together. With a hesitant smile, he began, "Hey... you should probably get some rest too. It's late, and I know you have a lot to do tomorrow. I don't want to keep you here if you're tired."

Blanca crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes playfully. "Nice try, Miguel. You're not getting rid of me that easily."

He chuckled softly, though it was laced with fatigue. "I know, but I'll be okay. Just need a bit of rest, that's all. I'd hate for you to stay and lose sleep over... me being dramatic."

Blanca shook her head, taking his hand gently. "You're not dramatic, Miguel. You've been through a lot, anyone would feel overwhelmed." She paused, her eyes searching his. "But if you really want a little time to yourself... I'll respect that."

Relief flickered in Miguel's expression, though he tried to hide it. "I promise, I'll call you if I need anything. Really, I just want you to be okay too. You've done more than enough already."

She nodded reluctantly, squeezing his hand before letting go. "Fine. But I'm only one call away. And I mean it."

He smiled, a genuine warmth in his gaze now. "I know. Thank you... for everything, Blanca."

Blanca gave him a final, reassuring smile, then slowly made her way to the door. Before she left, she glanced back one last time, her heart full of care for him. As she closed the door softly behind her, Miguel exhaled, finally alone with his thoughts, the events of the day pressing down heavily on his mind.

—

As the door clicked shut behind Blanca, Miguel's brief sense of comfort quickly dissolved, leaving him adrift in a storm of guilt and despair. His chest felt impossibly tight, like a weight pressing down that he could never lift. Memories replayed in his mind, each one harsher than the last, Ethan hurt, his father's distant voice, the twisted memory of his mother lying still. The thought gnawed at him, why had she been taken and not him? How could he deserve to be the one left behind, only to bring harm to everyone he loved?

He clenched his fists, pressing them against his chest as if to force the pain back inside, but it was too strong. A silent tear traced down his cheek, followed by another. Soon, he was choking back sobs, his shoulders shaking as he sat alone, isolated from anyone who could save him from this pain.

For a moment, he felt his heart betray him, pounding in defiance of his attempts to quiet it. He gasped for breath, then raised his hand and struck his chest, hoping to numb the ache that filled him. But with each hit, the pain only deepened, dragging him further into a darkness he couldn't escape.

Finally, he forced himself to sit up, wiping his face as he got to his feet. He walked toward his desk, each step feeling heavier than the last. Opening the top drawer, he reached in and retrieved the small metal key, his hands trembling as he unlocked the bottom drawer. The contents were grim reminders of his many sleepless nights, but they were familiar, a hollow comfort.

Inside lay several packages of sleeping pills, their wrappers rustling as he picked them up. Some were empty, remnants of previous attempts to quiet his mind, while others were full, unopened but beckoning. Miguel took one out, his eyes scanning the small print, though he'd read it all before. Without hesitation, he shook a few into his palm, swallowing them dry.

He shut the drawer and stumbled back to his bed, collapsing onto the mattress. His mind buzzed with thoughts, self-hatred, guilt, memories that wouldn't stop. But slowly, a numbing fog began to settle over him, the pills taking effect. His breaths slowed, and his mind grew heavy, though the pain was still there, a constant ache buried beneath the sedative haze.

As sleep pulled him under, his last thoughts were fractured but heavy, that he was a curse, a burden to everyone he loved, and that maybe, just maybe, sleep would bring him a reprieve from the pain he couldn't escape when awake.