I don’t want to die. Not really. But I can’t allow myself to wither away into an empty shell—living but dead on the inside.
The light flickers again. A spark of hope that there’s still some of me left within.
Another sob escapes past the lump in my throat, and the letter opener slips from my grasp.
Not taking my eyes off the photograph, I allow myself to be pulled into the visions my mind conjures up, chasing the glimmer of light that’s stopping me from falling completely into darkness.
Scooping up the photograph, I push onto unsteady legs and stagger over to the bed, collecting the journal I keep under the mattress before climbing on top. Switching on my bedside lamp, I unbind the leather journal. My heart cracks at the picture of my parents sitting inside the cover.
Would they want me to hold on?
Using the ribbon to find my last entry, I try to ignore the words—the words of a girl at her breaking point, one who was ready to end it all. Then, turning to a fresh page, I place the photograph of Sebastian where I can see it, hovering my pen over the paper.
A drop of crimson splashes onto the unmarked page as images of a man with ocean blue eyes and a stubbled jaw fill my mind.
I let go of the memory where he doesn’t see me—doesn’t hear my plea for help—and reach for the version my imagination creates.
One where he doesn’t leave me behind with a monster.
My white knight, dressed in a tailored suit.
Words start to flow through me, guided by the images in my head, and I feel the light shine a little brighter. I grasp onto it, forgetting about the torment and letting myself fall into a fantasy.