Page 3 of A Fine Line

Her sudden change in demeanor startles me enough that I loosen my hold on her hair, and then when she goes wild on me. I step back, staring at her in shock as she loses control, screaming, “I never asked for any of this! I never wanted any of this! I’ve been forced, coerced, and blackmailed my entire fucking life. I’ve been used as a tool and a weapon for other people’s gain. I’m so fucking tired of it, so fucking tired of being blamed, of being the scapegoat for something I have nothing to do with. So tired of having the people I love used as leverage to keep me in line, to keep me on track, to keep me a prisoner of other people’s fucking greed!”

I narrow my eyes, hesitant to believe anything that comes out of her lying fucking mouth. “Why should I fucking believe you? After what you did. You played Darius like a fiddle. He still believes your bullshit, even going so far as to make me swear on a stack of fucking Bibles that I won’t kill you. Don’t forget, sweetheart, I don’t actually answer to Darius Hughes or any other motherfucker out there. I answer to me, so don’t think you’re safe for one second just because you’re now crying wolf on your own deceitful bullshit.”

Her eyes bug out of her head, her hands fisting and then flying at me, pounding against my chest. “I fucking hate you! You don’t know anything, you miserable fucking asshole. You think you know everything, but you don’t know anything about me, my situation, or the lengths I’ve gone to protect people I love! Maybe you wouldn’t know what that’s like because you’ve never actually loved anyone other than yourself!”

I grab onto her wrists and yank her hands off me, shoving her back up against the wall again as I shout, “Don’t you fucking try to tell me about love, sweetheart. What the fuck do you know about love? You seem to live your life one mark to the next to see how far ahead you can get by constantly screwing people over. They fall for your bullshit, even begin to care for you, and then you lead them to their own fucking death trap. So, fuck you if you want to try to tell me about love.”

“Everything I’ve ever done has been for love. Every sacrifice I’ve made, every hurt I’ve withstood, my entire existence has revolved around protecting those I love. Don’t try to talk to me about understanding collateral damage and making hard choices to protect those you care about. You don’t fucking know anything, Tony. If I could’ve found a way out, I would’ve. There is no way out. I’m trapped in this fucking prison forever!”

“We all have choices. You have a choice every fucking day between being a good person and screwing over people that care about you. And even after all you’ve done, you still sit up here on your fucking pedestal in the lap of luxury, doing as you please while all the people that you have betrayed lie in their graves. Fuck you and your choices.”

“There’s no way out of this prison for me!” she yells. “How the fuck would you like me to leave? I’m stuck here with no way out until the next time they come for me and give me a job. Another ‘do this or we hurt someone you love’ vicious cycle.”

I snort and grit out, “There’s always a way out, sweetheart. If you’re so sick and tired of your life, maybe you should’ve gone off the fucking balcony like you deserve. Taken a fucking swan dive to paradise.”

I regret the words as soon as they’re out of my mouth, but I’m so fucking pissed off that I’m spewing whatever nonsense I can come up with.

She grabs at me for a moment and clenches her teeth so her scream is stuck vibrating in her chest. The sound is so guttural and animalistic that I immediately release her and step back entirely.

Then, as quickly as she started, she stops. An eerie calmness surrounds her as she steps toward me, tears streaming down her face, all the light gone from her eyes as she whispers, “You’re right. You’re right. I shouldn’t be here. I should’ve done that years ago when it all began. None of this ever would’ve happened. This entire existence wouldn’t have happened, and everyone I’ve hurt would be fine.”

She says nothing further; she just brushes her fingertips along my cheek and down over my chest, and then she turns and walks away from me down the hallway. Her change in demeanor is so swift that I’m briefly startled, and I stand there for a few moments in confusion as she disappears into the living room, out of sight.

The click of the balcony door snaps me back to the present, and I yell, “No!”

I’m running down the hallway, sprinting through the living room, leaping over the sofa on my way to the balcony doorway, where I see her on the other side, climbing up onto the railing.

I’m shouting, “No! No.No!“ all the while, in the back of my mind, I’m questioning what the fuck I’ve done.

It’s all in slow motion, me watching her as if she’s already suspended in the air, and I’m running through the doorway and out onto the balcony. She steps onto the edge and leans over, and I know I’m gonna be too late—that I won’t be able to get her in time to pull her back to safety, to save her, to stop her.

So, I don’t think. I don’t stop. I run harder, using the balcony furniture as steppingstones to propel me forward so when I step up onto the ledge, I’m launching myself up and out, pushing myself off the wall, so as I fly through the air, I run right into her, snatching her out of the void, the force of my body pushing her out and away.

And then we’re falling.

Falling.

Falling.

Chapter Two

Carolina

HowdidIgethere?

A seemingly simple question that many of us ask at random points in our lives, though likely not when actively headed to their doom.

I’m in a trance, my body moving of its own volition, but I have this niggling cadence in the back of my brain that can’t quite squeeze through the darkness of the right now. It can’t shove aside the pain I’ve learned to numb throughout my entire life. The chronic emotional turmoil, the suffering, the agony, all of it spews up from my being, washing away reason and pushing aside years of reinforcing walls needed to withstand my reality.

And now I’m left here, hemorrhaging internally, every bad thought, every terrible thing done to me, as every scream and tear that’s festered within me boils over, blinding me to…something.

I’m forgetting something.

There’s something.

Someone.

I’ve taken this path down the hallway, through the living room, and out to the balcony door. If my eyes were shut, now that I open them, I see I’m suspended in the air, and I remember something.

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