Page 13 of Bound By Threads
My throat constricts, almost painfully, as I fight to suppress the sob that threatens to escape.
The world doesn’t deserve to hear my voice, not when my pain-filled screams were met with deafening silence for hours.
Silence is my control.
The pain I’ve been made to endure is only mine. I’m no longer allowing anyone the satisfaction of my begging until my voice becomes so hoarse it hurts to breathe.
No.
Silence is better.
Safer.
I can hear the waves crashing against the rocks as the tide rises, and I take one last deep breath.
Then I’m soaring through the air, my arms outstretched wide, embracing my final and only moments of freedom. The warmth fades away as I hurtle towards the shimmering surface of the water, yet all I feel is peace.
I smile for the final time — anything is better than the life I’ve lived, and what will happen to me if I stay here.
No, this is better.
The water envelopsme like an old friend as I break through the surface, sending ripples in every direction. Darkness surrounds me, and I sink deeper into the abyss.
The coldness around me is suffocating now. It presses in on me, every inch of my skin, and seeps into my bones.
A desperate urge to open my mouth and gulp down the salty liquid floods my mind —an instinct to surrender to the depths and end this struggle.
But I can’t.
My lips remain sealed, clinging to the last of my oxygen until I can’t anymore.
My lungs burn, the pressure building. My head feels as if it’s going to explode.
Everything hurts.
Memories surge through me like relentless waves, replaying every painful moment I’ve endured, intensifying the physical pain I already feel.
Finally… finally, my lips part, and a scream of anguish escapes me that I’ve held in for years, only to be silenced by the water that now fills my lungs.
My chest aches, and my heart slows with each passing second.
The water is heavier than it should be and more suffocating than I imagined.
I can’t move, can’t fight it. But I know I don’t want to.
I remember the sky, the warm wind that brushed against my face, the quiet promise of freedom that had been whispered in my ear. And I remember the pain, so much pain, that followed every false hope as the people who were supposed to love me crushed my heart in their hands.
Every time I thought I could escape them, I was pulled back into the storm of darkness and silence. Now, the world above the water feels like a distant memory, a place to which I never belonged.
I hear the soft rush of water around me, lapping at my ears as I sink deeper. The pressure squeezes around my ribs. It’s almost peaceful. The desperate, frenzied panic that once filled me is fading, replaced by an eerie calm.
I wonder if this is what it feels like to truly let go.
My vision begins to blur, shadows creeping in from the edges, threatening to consume my consciousness.
The memories come in fragments, broken pieces of who I was. There are flashes of laughter with the three boys who once owned my heart, of warmth as my dad spun me around high in the air, of the ocean breeze ruffling my hair as the waves lapped at the shore.
But they are so fleeting, slipping away before I can hold on to them. They dissolve into the endless water, the sound of my heartbeat growing weaker with every beat.
