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𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚢 𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚎 ─ 𝚜𝚎𝚝 𝚖𝚎 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎
We were both quiet. Either one not knowing what to say. I had met a cruel fate. My own father tried to kill me and while my mother didn't survive I was condemned to live the rest of my life alone. The final girl.
I was the only one who knew what really happened. For a a couple years I couldn't even remember half of it. The cops and doctors would repeatedly ask me the same questions, but for some reason I just never could remember. Selective amnesia they called it.
And the relapses... those are the worst part. Sometimes it's like a dream- or should I say nightmare where I watch myself from afar as I try to repeatedly hurt myself. I've slit my wrists, or I've cut my skin. I've jumped out windows and screamed till my voice was hoarse.
And I wasn't trying to kill myself. I wanted myself to suffer.
For the first years I was considered a hazard against myself. That's why I was in an asylum until I was 15. They tried putting me in a foster care once I was out, but after one suicide attempt they sent me straight to group homes for the next two years.
I hated myself. I hated myself so much during my teenage years. That's where the drugs and the drinking came in. Where the parties started and the guys filed in line. It was the dark times.
If the truth, they say, sets you free, then how come I still feel trapped. Even if my cage may be golden now. The walls are smaller and the air is thinner. I don't think I can breathe.
"Maria," I hear Christian's voice still behind me, "Step away from the edge."
I can feel myself shaking as I cross my arms and look down. The sun was setting and New York wailed at me from below. I wondered what would happen if I just jumped and ended it all. No more pain. No more suffering. I could just end it all.
"He killed himself after he murdered my mother." I chuckle a bit, "You hear those kinds of stories on the news, but you never think it'll happen to you."
"Get down." He says sternly, but I ignore him.
"When I was younger, although I didn't remember, I swore it was an accident. He didn't mean to kill her, he panicked, and I was there so he had to kill me too. Then he killed himself, not wanting to spend life in prison because he was guilty. He was so clearly guilty."
"Maria..."
"My father is dead, Christian, my mother is dead, I died a long time ago, and now Katelyn? Who is next? Who else has to die for me to live?" My cheeks were wet with tears as they flowed freely down my cheeks, "When will it all be over?"
I felt someone grab my arm and pull me down from the edge of the rooftop. I stumble and collapse into Christian's arms, but I quickly shove him off.
"Get away from me! I hate you." I glare at him. His face was blank with no emotion just like it always was. I almost wanted to laugh at how predictable he was.
I trusted him, and he kept something from me. Not only was it a secret, but it was a secret about me. Something life changing about me and he didn't tell me. I can never forgive him for that. I can't even look at him the same... now when I see him all I see is a cold, unyielding man who demands and receives. He never gives. He isn't kind. He's Christian Moretti. You should fear him.
"I understand-"
"No you don't!" I almost scream at him through tears, "How could you?"
"It was terrible what happened to you, but although I have my parents that doesn't mean they've been loving toward me also!" He raises his voice.
"Then tell me." I step closer to him, "Tell me what they did to you and I won't leave. Tell me how they hurt you and I won't leave you, Christian."
"I... They... I-I can't." He stutters. He stutters in my presence and I am almost surprised that I made him do it, but the high crashes and I realize what I've lost. Or... what he's lost.
"Goodbye, Christian." I manage to get out before I walked away as quickly as I could. As I grabbed my phone and wallet, getting out of there as fast as I could, I couldn't stop tears from falling from my eyes.
It was over. It was all over, but it was bound to happen, wasn't it? A relationship built on lies and without any trust is bound to end badly. Part of me thinks it was a mistake for leaving him. I'll miss his smile and his words. Having someone to sleep next to at night, and someone how, for some reason, I knew understood me. He understood everything that happened to me as if he had experienced the same thing. We had the same kind of hurt inside us that was slowly killing us. Maybe we both needed each other just for that fact, but he wasn't ready. He wasn't ready to trust. To open up. To love. He didn't love me. And that was what made me want to die.
