9
303words
I nodded.
But the moment she closed the door, the dam I'd been holding broke harder than before.
I tore through the apartment like a madwoman, smashing what had been put in order.
Glass broke with crisp sounds.
It still wasn't enough.
The pressure kept mounting until an impulse took over.
A demon whispered in my ear.
I held a kitchen knife to my wrist, only to stop at the last second.
The door flew open. Jason stood there, eyes meeting mine, his hand suspended.
In the past, anytime I picked up something sharp he would panic.
He would never let me touch anything that could harm me.
This time he simply stood there, his face distant like a spectator.
The ticking of the clock was deafening.
"Do it," he said, sneering. "Cut."
I was frozen like a puppet, staring at him.
He laughed and then said, cruelly: "You wouldn't do it." "You just want pity." "Why didn't it happen to you?"
He said it like an simple question.
I fought to steady myself.
"You. Don't. Dare. To. Die." he said, each word deliberate.
He was right.
With medication and the weight of promises, I wouldn't die.
But I also couldn't go on.
The knife clattered to the floor and landed at my feet.
Despair wound itself around me like vines until I broke into sobs.
Before, Jason would have wrapped me in his arms when I cried.
The indifferent man's softness soothed me .
Just like—
Just like she used to.
He'd wipe away my tears with a gardenia-scented handkerchief and murmur, "Don't cry, Luna. Tears ruin your beauty."
A corny line, but I'd listened for years and never tired.
No one would ever comfort me like that again.
