B r o k e n W o r d s

P R O L O G U E

All it takes is one thought, two great big hands pushing with all of their might, and one reason; a million reasons.

The hands know me too well. They yank me out of happiness and shove me into misery without thinking twice, or asking if I am okay. The hands rip my heart into the smallest of pieces with no intentions of putting them back together. The hands destroy friendships, dreams, lives. The hands are hidden weapons of mass destruction. Just like me.

My heart and my brain are in constant war. As I near the edge, my heart beats faster and faster, my brain screaming harsh harmonies at each pulse. "STOP!" and for a second I think to myself, Adley, you don't have to, and as my brain continues to free itself from the iron grip of my heart, I take one compromising step back.

two.

three.

four.

Blinded by bright lights illuminating trees set against the dark night sky, I quickly duck to the ground, my heart telling me to hide until they go away, but my mind wanting to be found, to be discovered, to pour out everything it is thinking to someone, anyone.

I know the shadow in the blue BMW saw me. I'm sure our eyes locked for a split second, but I turned away as my glossy ones began to spill tears all over my chin. The bright lights faded quickly just as my heart grabbed a vicious hold on my mind.

I know they saw me. I know that if I mattered in this world, if I mattered at all that they would stop me. He knows why I'm here, that devil in blue, he saw what I was doing and only beckoned me further with the turn of his headlights.

The return to darkness was all it took.

In the brief yet beautiful pause I was given between bitter tears, I told myself over and over, "You don't matter," and again it came, "You don't matter," and as if they were a tattoo the words were imprinted across my heart. They had become a part of me. The war was over, and with no clear winner, the fight was as hard as ever.

Blood fell from my body, but I did not know the source. It dripped steadily onto the rusty railing in between salty tears of disgrace, and my now-white knuckles grasped on for dear life. I was numb to the pain, and I wasn't crying for the blood. I wasn't crying for my mother, my father, for my destroyed friendships. This one time, I was crying for me. My heart sighed once more, as for the first time a drop of blood and a single tear tied in their race to the creaky wood of the bridge. The water below me churned in unease.

The last flash of light came and I was sure it was my own blue devil trying to stop me once more, but this time I didn't hide.

I tried to scream for help, but my words shattered before they even left my mouth.

One last push came from two forceful hands.

Oblivion.

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