The Girl Who Saved My Life

"Hold my hand," I say, looking straight into her deep, hazel eyes.

"What?" she asks me, chuckling and averting her gaze.

"I need to know you are real."

She grasps my hand firmly, entwining our fingers. The warmth of her hand comforts my cold, sweaty hand. "See?" she nods her head at me, her eyes trained at our conjoined hands. "I am real: you found a friend." Tears well in my eyes as I look downwards to my lap, my grip on her hand tightening.

"Why...?" I trail off, a limpid drop falling on my blue jeans, darkening the fabric there. My teeth suck and bite on my lower lip, my brain swirling and swirling into the darkness of being alone. A sudden squeeze on my hand brings me back from my thoughts.

"'Why', what?" she asks me, her tone gentle, unlike anything I ever experienced. So...insightful, making it seem like she knew every nook of my person, every emotion I feel, every thought that scuttles into my brain.

"Why are you my friend?" I ask her, swinging feet off the cliff I almost succumbed to.

If only she wasn't there.

"I like you," she speaks frivolously, shrugging her shoulders. Brushing off her pink, floral dress with her other hand, she stands up, my hand still gripped in hers. "Come," she pulls at me, "I want a fro-yo. Won't you share it with me?" she asks, smiling and tilting her head, her brown curls dangling in front of her face from the movement.

"Yes," I say quietly, "I like fro-yo." The vision of the waves crashing on the dark, black rocks down the cliff seems much less tempting as I stand up; the idea of never-ending blackness fading in comparison to having a dessert with my newest friend. My only friend.

"For what it's worth," I continue, our steps rustling the sand beneath our feet, "I like you, too." She laughs, "Of course you do, silly!"

I smile at her amusement. 

She halts suddenly, pulling at me and compelling me to turn to face her. Her expression twists into one of confusion as she lets go of my hand, reaching up to my face and trailing her fingers to my hairline. Like the contact had electrified her, she pulls away and hastily hides her hand behind her back.

"Oh, dear," she says quietly, tears welling up her eyes.

"What's wrong?" I ask, worried.

"It's time," she asserts regretfully.

"For what?" I ask, only to face dead silence. 

"Please...tell me what's wrong!" I demand, my throat choking up from fear. Slowly, she brings her hand in front of her, and I gasp.

Blood paints her fingers crimson.

Instinctively, my hand shoots up to touch my head, only to feel sanguine liquid envelop my fingers. I sigh, content and fearful. "No one came to save me, did they?" I ask her, smiling ruefully.

She shakes her head, averting her gaze downwards. A sudden sob erupts from her lips, and I embrace her.

"It's okay," I tell her, knowing she was the same voice in my mind for years, imploring me about the beauty of life.

"I'm sorry," she says, her voice hoarse from tears.

"It's okay," I echo, closing my eyes, basking in the warmth of her embrace.

Suddenly, the darkness seems just as inviting as before. Coldness washes over me as the blood-stained black rocks become my last home...and I drift.

I drift into the peace I sought.