It’s the only way.
It feels like an inescapable torment, spreading through my chest like thorny vines, pricking my skin with the same cruelty as the thorns that ensnared Sleeping Beauty. If this anguish were a living thing, it would bloom and writhe inside my ribcage, leaving nothing but emptiness in its wake.
The scream building in my throat is welcome and deserved.The satisfaction of seeing those few droplets of blood seeping through my skin is enough to lighten my heavy heart before dissolving into something unspeakable.
It’s macabre in all its furious glory, making me savor the sharp taste of suffering—perhaps even death. Losing oneself is a beautiful tragedy, one that shreds your insides into irreparable pieces. Losing hope, emotions, and the life you once knew is a pain greater than anything else.
I have caused so much destruction, evenkilledpeople, and it’s tearing me into bits and pieces of shrouded dust.
The scissors cut deeper than intended, and a weak scream flees my throat, tears streaming down my cheeks.
A sudden knock on the bathroom door jerks me from my reverie, but I’m stuck on the floor—unable to move, think, or breathe without feeling like I’m losing my grip on reality and sanity.
It’s as if my brain is barely aware of what’s going on around me, and I’m slowly disconnecting as the pounding on the door gets worse.
“Naya!” a frantic voice calls from outside, but I don’t move, watching the blood flow from the wound on my heel.
“Naya!” the voice shouts, barely audible through the pounding in my ear. “Please, little doll. Please open this door.”
Grey’s desperate voice and frantic knocking grow louder. I slump against the wall, screaming.
I fucking deserve this pain.
“Open the door this fucking instant.”
I don’t. Grey’s voice carries an angry worry as he tries the handle, fruitlessly attempting to get inside.
It doesn’t take long before the wood splinters as he kicks it open, the handle clattering to the floor. Grey bursts into the room, fists clenched, sweat dripping from his temple with anxiety and desperation filling his beautiful sapphire eyes.
Seeing my state of mind, his eyes crease. “My beautiful woman, what have you done?”
I can’t utter a word, trying to ground myself as he embraces me. His arms are warm against my shivering body under the spraying water as he turns it off, lifting me up.
Placing me on the toilet lid, his eyes glint with agony as he drapes a towel around me and inspects my heel. He tends to the wound, grabbing a first aid kit from the sink.
“You don’t get to hurt yourself. You will never have to face your inner demons alone, ever again. The next time, you wake me up. Understood?”
Tears cling to my eyes like rivulets as I nod, feeling his words bringing me back to reality.
“I already told you that I’ll be the anchor you need, the one you can count on. Please never do that again. I hate to see you hurt. It fucking pains me.” His voice breaks.
He rests his forehead against mine, taking deep breaths as if to assure himself that I’m okay. The guilt hits me like a tsunami.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell him, meaning every word of it.
“You scared the shit out of me, especially since I saw that note, and—”
Tears blur my vision as I search his eyes, my heart pounding. “What kind of note?”
He shakes his head, expression darkening. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it right now; let me worry about you.”
“I’m fine,” I say.
“Don’t ever fucking lie again.” He pins me with a hard glare, and I roll my eyes.
I do not understand it, but my mind always calms down in his presence, no matter the circumstances.
“What kind of note?” I prompt, taking a step closer to him with the towel wrapped tightly around me.
