Savior

Back From The Brink

Chapter 1

     I believe that death is dream and life is a nightmare. Hidden within my every thought is death and how easy it is to obtain. I suppose death is a sad thing for those of us who have something to hold onto or to let go of.
   For me, it’s as simple as snapping my fingers. I don’t need to think about it. I just have to do it.
    I blink away tears. My entire body is sore from the lack of movement and food. My ribs would be painfully obvious if it weren’t for my thin long sleeve shirt, I had that draping over them, despite how cold it was.
    What am I doing with my life? Nothing. My existence is pointless. This fact is quite obvious to me as I stare blankly at life around me.
I let my feet come to the edge as my legs shake so hard beneath me. I feel as if they will not hold me. I imagine them hitting the icy black water below. If I don’t die of hypothermia, I’m bound to choke on something in those polluted depths of the icy black abyss. I stare at my arms coated in thin fabric though I feel as though nothing can cover their hideousness of my skin. The newest cuts scream every time I clench my fists.
   Cutting is like breathing. If don’t do it, I die. That wouldn’t be so bad. No more people expecting more from me, wondering why I’m always wanting to be alone constantly wanting more and raising expectations to unachievable levels. I’m so tired of hearing about choices.
    The fresh bruises that my boyfriend left last night ached as they lay in scattered places on my scared skin. If what he was giving me was love, than I didn’t want anything to do with love. The only love I had ever known was pleasing someone with nothing in return, but getting punished if I failed to do as they asked. The truth is that I didn’t get to choose to be born and every other choice I’ve been able to make is irrelevant. I didn’t choose to be who I️ am or what I️ am. True, I could change but what’s the point? If I change I’ll hate myself and others will love me. If I don’t change I’ll wish I was different and everyone will still hate me, question me, expect me to do things I am not and will never be content or happy doing. I’ll never be happy.
   I stand on shaking legs and let my toes hang off the edge of the bridge looking over the black river far below. I close my eyes. Is this really it? Is it really this easy? It is when everyone hates me and I hate myself.
I jump. I wait for my body to smack into the Foam laced, black waters below. I gasp as I fall back, a pair of arms gripping my waist. I hate this person. I scream it. I scream it loud. “I hate you!”
   “Are you serious?! I just saved your life,” the guy snaps, letting go. “Oh, how nice. Such a miracle, ” I reply, sarcasm heavy on my tongue. “I️ didn’t want to be saved,” I️ said venom lacing my every word.
   We stand in silence for a moment as I try to breathe normally. Should I suddenly want to live because someone cares about my existence? I️ look around in my surroundings and then focus on the man. I️ study him as he does to me for what seems like an endless eternity.
  “Thanks ,” I mutter breaking the deadly silence hanging in between the two of us, wondering if it’s the polite thing to do. I turn to walk away. Then I pause, and turn back , “I don’t mean it and, I’m sorry if you think I do.” I️ say in an emotionless tone.
  “Why?” he asks clearly bothered by my lack of motivation to live. I sigh as I️ look in to his troubled eyes. “I despise living. It hurts to wake up. I can’t look at my reflection anymore. I have no one to talk to,” I answer. “You’re talking to me,” he points out. “I don’t even know your name,” I mumble. “Andy, my name is Andy,” he says quickly, as if trying to grab my full attention, even though he already had it.
“I’m not going to tell you my name because it doesn’t matter to you and probably never will,” I admit. I stare at my feet and wonder. I wonder why he’s still here, why won’t leave. “Not to be rude but… why are you talking to me? You’ve done your good deed for the day, you saved an ugly girl from killing herself, ” I snap.
I wait for him to agree and walk away. He doesn’t. He walks up to me and whispers, “You’re beautiful. I’m sorry that you can’t see that. You may not believe me but your life means something. I can’t walk away. It's not right.”
   My lips move but I can’t speak. What can I say? I can leave. But there’s something in his voice. Sincerity. He means it. Andy means it. Is he feeling sorry for me? Does he think I’ll kill myself if he leaves. I️ start to question his motives. He asks questions and I awnser as vaguely as possible.
   But despite my efforts to keep up the wall. It slowly begins to crumble.
    For the first time in months, I’m relaxed and not on edge about expectations I️ have to live up to or be overwhelmed with the anxiety or judgement from others. It’s just him.
   I begin to believe that my life is worth living because one person cared. He cared.
   What was wrong with me. Suddenly, one person looks at me and I'm ready to take another round of punches. Why is he so special. Why.

“My name is Clara.” I said with a goast of a smile.

  (A/N): Hello. This is my first of, hopefuly a lot more stories. Hope you like it.

Love, Liz.