(Thank you Cas_Dean_Sam_Lover! This one's for you! I hope you enjoy. 😀)

It was a few years ago. Though, it's difficult to picture it any differently. I guess I should tell it from where I remember…

“What's wrong, cunt? Need a bit of help?” their sneers and snickers echoed in my ears as I quickly picked up all my papers, scattered across the hallway floor. “Fuck off…” I mutter bitterly. The small group closes in on me, like a wild animal being cornered. “Just leave me the hell alone.” My voice grows louder, more and more rage building up. Same routine. Different day. I swipe at someone's legs, pulling them towards me. Timber! They fall flat on their back and in a moment I'm back on my feet. Running as fast as I can away from them. But it's only a matter of moments before I'm tackled to the ground…I wake up to feel a bit of blood oozing from my forehead and lip. My eye feels swollen and I can't open it very far. Everyone has left by now. My locker is still wide open. My books and papers scattered yet again, torn apart as though they were looking for something. My chest feels tight and a sharp pain shoots through. Blood splatters appear on my hand as I shield a cough. With weak knees, I stand to my feet and collect my belongings. My screen protector has shattered yet again... At least the screen cooperates. However, that's *after* piercing my fingertips with screen protector/glass shrapnel. A sob attempts to force itself out of my lips, choking me as the lump stays forced into place. 'Not now...'. I place the cold, shard-riddled phone close to my ear. "Please pick up." Ringing on the opposite end makes me uneasy. Makes my brain feel as though it's being stabbed with an ice pick and my stomach as though I were ready to splatter a new color onto the hallway floors. Click "hello?" My throat seems to swell and a choked sound escapes, seemingly desperate. "Hi, mom...?" A small pause. "Jessica? Where the hell ARE you!? School ended an hour ago!" "...can you pick me up? Please?" As soon as the words escaped, so did a few tears. "I'm still at the school..." A sigh slides through the small speaker. "I'll be there. Just make sure you stay there." Beep. And just like that... I was alone again. My voice trembles with silent sobs as I apologize to thin air. I finally made it to my feet. Aching everywhere. My chest feels even tighter through my shallow, choking sobs. After I finally collect my papers, my mom texts me. Just two words, but they make me stumble, shoving papers into my bookbag as I run. Creating panic and relief all at the same time. "I'm here".

A car horn honks just moments before I reach the door. C'mon! Hurry or shes gonna leave! My legs move faster, and I sprint into the door. "Oo!" I had forgotten to push the door open as I ran. A groan escapes my lips as I push the bar. Click it opens slowly and I quickly walk out. My moms' van waits for me in the parking lot, honking at me again. "Let's go!" Her voice pierces my eardrums from the opened car window. I sprint yet again, stopping just before the door and pulling the handle. It slides open and I plop down in the seat. My bag falls to the floor. The door is pulled shut just as soon as I find a seat and we're moving. The tension could break bones. I know because my chest felt as though it were going to implode, and splintered ribs would impale my heart and lungs. But that didn't happen. It got harder to breathe, but I didn't die. I wish I had. Maybe it would've been quicker. I wanted to speak. But I couldn't through the small noises that did escape me. Small silent whimpers. The anger built up and she had had enough. She slams a hand on the wheel. "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" A jolt of surprise rises through me. "YOU COULD'VE DIED, BEEN KIDNAPPED, YOU COULD'VE EVEN BEEN RAPED AND DUMPED SOMEWHERE, AND I WOULDN'T HAVE KNOWN!!" A salty droplet finds itself on the edge of her eye, ready to jump like a thrill seeker from a cliff. And with those words that filled the silence... I wasn't fearful. I wasn't sad. I was furious. I let her rant and the anger grew deeper. My face scrunched up as her tone rose. "Oh yeah? AND YOU DIDN'T CALL ME? THAT'S HOW WORRIED YOU WERE? WOW, REAL FUCKING CLASSY! YOU KNOW, IF YOU REALLY-" "DON'T YOU FUCKING TALK TO ME LIKE THAT!" She slammed on the break. Luckily, this isn't a very busy road, but the stop caused the belt to lock and strain against my neck. "I AM YOUR MOTHER! MAYBE HAVE SOME GOD DAMN RESPECT!" I cough as I fall back into my seat, the seatbelt loosening. "Respect you? When you don't give a damn about your own daughter?" A hoarse croaking sound temporarily replaced my voice. The swelling started again, but this time it wasn't sobs. It was fury. My chest no longer felt tight. The car starts yet again. "Of course. I never care, do I? I could have left you so long ago if I didn't. Hell, with how I'm treated now, maybe I SHOULD have left. Maybe I still can! How the hell would that be? No more disrespectful, lazy, useless daughter. Just time for me. Is that what you want?" We finally pulled into the driveway. In a flash, I bolted out of the car. "You left your bag!! HEY!!!" I stormed into the house. I wouldn't need my bag where I'm going. "JESSICA!" My mom's voice fades as I grab a pocketknife from my room. Let's just hope it does the job. Heavy footsteps climb the stairs behind me. In a panic, I find myself locked into the bathroom. Bang bang "Jessica?! What the hell are you doing?! Get out here and talk to me like a normal human being!!!" The lump swells further. Rage and sadness wander frantically through the maze of brain cells in my skull, trying desperately to find the slightest trace of their friends logic and rationality. Little do they know they're comatose for the time being. And with that, I flick open my blade. A swift stab to my stomach. "Aah! Mm..." I grunt in pain as the cold blade breaks through tissue. "JESS?!" "JUST GO AWAY!!" I pull the knife out, stabbing again. "Shit!" I mumble to myself, biting my shirt. I stab once more...and then I black out. Next thing I know, I'm in the hospital. The thin gown around me bulges around an itchy, painful bandage. My mom is sleeping in the corner of the small dimly lit room. I missed my major organs, somehow. Tears slid down my face. I was hoping to bleed out or spill my guts. Anything but be where I am now. What were people going to say when I went back to school? What do I say to explain the scars on my stomach? Maybe an abortion gone-wrong? They're going to call me a coward. An idiot. They're going to treat me worse when they hear that the piece of shit sitting next to them was enough of a coward to quit their own life. What then? Do I run? I can't hide. I can't defend myself when they're right...

I finally make it back to school. The kids were still brutal. But I felt even more paranoid of the odd looks. The dumb yet convenient remarks. More pushes against my stomach, causing twice as much pain than before. The stitches were still there, but they had mostly healed after a week in urgent care. About a year later...I found him. Not much going for me, I figured I'd grab a coffee. Nothing about it. Just a quick drink, maybe a muffin or something. Senior year of high school. "I'll have..." Do I want coffee? Maybe I'll just get a smoothie... There's tea, there's sodas, juice, sparkling water... "I'll just get a raspberry tea, please." Anxiety gets the best of me and I blurt out the first thing my brain decides. Not a bad choice. I just wish I would've been a bit more confident to wait for a second longer.

I sip my tea. A bit bitter, but I'll survive. Hell, I've made it this far. By choice or not. With a sigh, I look at my phone. My mom again. Time to turn off vibrate. And almost as soon as I press the icon, I hear a gentle scraping noise ring in the air around me. "Hm?" My eyes darted up to meet his. A smile plastered to his face. "...what's funny?" He turned away for a moment. Then looked back at me, leaning in to whisper. "My friends over there bet $40 that I wouldn't receive your phone number. You can write a fake number on my napkin and we plan how we want to spend the money?" My confusion plastered on my face, I can't help but smile at the stupidity. "You're joking, right?" "Not in a million years. I think you're the prettiest girl here. That, and I REALLY feel like pulling one over on my friends. It doesn't have to be real if you don't want it to be. Just a random number combination. Just make it look convincing." His smile grows wider. "My names Dmitri. My friends call me Misha. And you are?" I chuckle a bit to myself. "Not worth your time. Thanks for the inclusion on the little joke, but I'm not interested in much else." I pull out a pen and jot my number onto the napkin, still pulling the smiley facade. "Spend the money wisely." "...Am I missing something?" He tilts his head. "What do you mean?" I looked into his dark eyes yet again, the sweet and mischievous spark glistening dully. Almost replaced by something...else. Like a completely different side of him was being shown. "It's your money too since you cooperated. So...maybe you could help me spend it?" His smile softened. After a moment of pretending to think, I spill the words my brain put into order. "What did you have in mind?" "We could come back here in a week, get something for lunch. How's that?" The calm tone in his voice made my lips curl. My amusement was uncontrollable. He had obviously thought this out. "Alright. Lunch it is." And with a quick nod and a surprise hand kiss, he left to the table where a couple of guys were watching. I heard faint cheers and whistles into the air and rolled my eyes. 'Can't be that important...' I mumbled to myself. Two years, billions of phone calls, and 23 dates later? I married the cheeky bastard. And I thought it couldn't possibly get any better. For a while, I was finally happy. Out of my mother's house. Away from the paranoia, and the odd looks, and the heart-shattering names. The broken bones. The bruises. I explained the scars on my stomach and he held me close. And he promised he wouldn't let go...but as soon as my depression started back up again, I thought he had. He seemed tired. We didn't talk as often. He was absorbed in something else, and I didn't want to be in the way. Maybe I'm not worth it anymore. Does he have someone else? Was I no longer interesting? What was happening to us? Was he going to leave? All of the possible scenarios played into my head at once. They appeared as nightmares, they surfaced during everyday tasks, conversations, even when he was holding me tighter than usual. I couldn't shake it. And now that leads me here. About to attempt to take my life yet again. Misha...when you read this, I just want you to know that I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm not trying to drag you down. I love you. So so so so much. But I hurt. I just...i want to stop.

With that, I fix myself. Lip gloss, eyeshadow, and my favorite dress. Gotta look nice when you're going on the news. And on top of that, you want to look nice if you're going to meet God. Not that he'll have much to say, but I don't want to be rude. My lungs fill and then deflate with shaky breaths. My weak and tired body finds its way onto the creaky surface of a footstool. A sturdy beam should do just right. The knot already tied. Now to secure the rope. Not easy...but I guess that's what happens. Woah! The stool seems to have a mind of its own, attempting to end my plan before I even started. "Hey! Easy. It's almost over..." I speak more to myself than the inanimate wooden craft beneath my feet, but talking to the stool made it less lonely. Made me calmer by some crazy, ridiculous instance that would never happen again. "Jessica?!" As I find my head in the noose, Misha walks into the door. "Love, what are you doing?!" His eyes prick and swell and I can't find the words to say anything. Not an explanation, not an apology, not even an I love you. My mouth just gapes like a fish trying to breathe out of water until he takes a step closer. "Don't!" My eyes match his, filling with fear and sadness as they drown in tears. "I don't want to hurt you-" "but if you leave me, then it'll hurt even more than anything you could possibly do while alive." It's almost as though he's snapping at me. Like he doesn't know exactly what he's trying to say. He pauses a minute. "Please... I-I don't want to lose the love of my life." The world slows down. His sadness accumulating in the moments of silence. He squeezes his eyes shut. If he comes closer, I might get scared and jump. If he pushes me, I might catch on the rope. The only escape is if I choose to jump or remove the rope. A choice he can't begin to ponder. The agony of anticipation contorts his face into a despair-ridden grimace. "I don't want to lose you..." Is it really worth it? Leaving? Yes, we have issues, but if I told him what I was going through, then maybe he'd understand. He could help me. I slowly remove the rope. Move to his still frozen form. And I pull him tightly. Tears slide down my face, landing on his shoulder as he relaxes and holds me. "I'm so-so sorry..." With a kiss on my head, he soothes me as I sob into his shirt. "I love you so much...don't do that again. I thought you were going to leave." His voice cuts through my pained whimpers. I nod. "I promise." That's all I can muster. The only confirmation I can possibly give him of just how sorry I am for scaring him. And he accepts it.