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My mouth parts and a tear hangs from my lid.
This is real.
This is not a nightmare. I didn’t sleep and wake up in hell. I went there with my own two feet.
No.
No…
My dry lips tremble as a few droplets of blood fall from my wound and join the massacre on my hands.
This much blood can only mean one thing.
I took a life.
My demons finally won.
They’re silent now, not even attempting to whisper those malicious things, those thoughts that have plagued me day and night. They rose in volume, crashing and clawing at the confines of my head until I heard them.
Until I made their wish come true.
“I’m not a murderer. Not a murder…” I murmur the words to myself. Maybe if I keep doing it, I can undo what happened.
Maybe I can go back and change it.
I stare up at the gloomy, bleak sky, tears clinging to my lids. “If there’s someone out there, please let me go back to change it. I’m not this person. Don’t let me be this person. Please…”
Only the howling wind answers me, its sound echoing in the empty forest like vengeful spirits with yellow eyes and gaping mouths.
“P-please…” I beg. “Please stop torturing me with my own self.Please.”
I know my pleas have no effect whatsoever, but it’s the last hope I can hold on to. The last thread that can save me. Because I desperately need saving right now.
And I don’t trust myself to do it anymore. If I try, I’ll just make it worse. I’ll spiral out of control and slide down the path of no return.
Next thing I know, I’ll be my own demons.
I’ll be my own downfall.
I’ll be the thing I’ve run away from my entire life.
“Please make it stop.” My voice chokes and I sniffle. “Please. I’ll do anything.”
This time, the wind isn’t my answer. The shuffling of footsteps comes from around the trees.
My feet falter and I stop breathing. My demons couldn’t have found me this soon.
Though…wait.This is reality. My demons don’t show up in reality. That means the footsteps belong to someone more dangerous than them.
I spin around and sprint ahead, elbowing the low branches out of my way. The fallen leaves crunch under my flat shoes, but I don’t stop to think about the sound I’m making—which gives a clear indication of where I am. That’s not important right now. If I’m caught, I’ll be killed.
Actually, my fate will be a lot worse than death.
Live. You’re a fighter. You were born to live.
Mom’s words echo in my head, charging me with a large dose of adrenaline. I have to live and stay that way for both of us.
Ineedto live.
