Take Me Down

A Story by Jenn

Eww, angsty.

Take Me Down

        From faraway, the four walls surrounding them appear unmistakably flawless. The cream-colored paint is precisely layered � not too sheer, not too thick. Not even the slightest bump protrudes awkwardly from the surface, gleaming with a perfection she has always foolishly sought after. She ganders toward those very walls, a slight pinch of jealousy burdening her. But had she taken a closer look, she would have realized the peeling paint, the cracked corners, the broken visage. The imperfections couldn't be seen from afar. She had been mistaken.
        Her dazed eyes focus on the figure beside her. She is hardly able to lock a gaze with him. An unexplainable numbness strangles her ability to concentrate, forcing her to frequently blink away the fuzziness around the rim of her vision. The faint ghost of the beat of her heart wanders within her; she's lost. And nobody knows but her.
        He smiles down at her. An exhausted, saddened smile. It is a smile that will remain a distant memory. From a former life. An abandoned life. An unwanted one.
        "How are you feeling?" he asks tenderly, as if afraid his voice will shatter what is left of her soul.
        She fishes for words, but doesn't know how to respond.
        Oblivious to what was occurring around her, she considers asking aloud. Fragmented thoughts float about in her head, and even as she opens her throat to speak, not a single word spills out. But she eventually has no need to verbalize the question: the instant he presses his hand into hers it jolts the death grip she had held onto that empty bottle of sleeping pills.
        She sinks deeper into the white sheets of the hospital bed, the unfamiliar frigidness penetrating right through her paper-thin skin. The rattle of a cart's rusty wheels crescendos and fades beyond the door in the hallway. The noise temporarily distracts her from the apathy overtaking her, but the moment lasts no longer than a second.
        "I'm still alive," she whispers, breaking the silence with her hoarse voice.
        He gazes at her with a pained expression. "Yeah. I found you. We saved you."
        "I see." But she doesn't.
        She still remembers that moment when she was caught in the rift between reality and the only escape route she knew. She was confronted with a one-way sign on the side of the road, and she couldn't find a reason to swerve off the lane.
        She wraps the sheets tighter around her shoulders, attempting to shoo away the glaciation. The faint lights cast shadows on his face, concealing half of the anxiety wrecking his disposition.
        "You always told yourself that I was happy," she states. "Nobody ever did suspect a thing."
        It wasn't worded as a question, and so he tells himself not to be obligated to answer. And it wasn't like he could object. He had to admit: she had always been such a convincing actor. Faking smiles when arms wrapped around waists. Faking laughs when corny jokes were uttered. Faking love when a heart was surrendered. From him. To her. Never wanted. Returned.
        "But...why?" She tilts her head toward his direction, searching for his eyes in the consuming darkness. "But why waste your time? I'm not some helpless little girl trying to pry into danger just for the sake of being rescued. I'm not some attention w***e trying to pretend to feel desperation just to see who cares enough to break down these walls. I'm not waiting for some prince to whisk me away into an over-rated fairytale ending. I don't need the saving. So please. Get it out of your head. Please don't try and be the hero."
        He presses his eyes closed.
        His heart is torn open � all for her. He's letting the blood drip down, stinging reopened wounds, and yet all he's left with is the taste of her bitterness on his tongue. No thank-yous. No gratification. No simple pat-on-the-back for saving a f*****g life. He slams his palms onto her shoulders, leering straight into her eyes. She flinches, taken aback by his sudden aggression.
        "I'm not gonna stop you from taking your own life."
        Her eyes widen, almost discontented by his answer. He wouldn't shed a single tear had she died? "What? Oh, so you never cared? I'm so sorry for ever thinking that you actually gave a damn."
        His grip softens, but his eyes don't lose even an ounce of intensity. "You're so f*****g selfish. To even think about just leaving me like that. So you think that you can just go? To leave us behind in a hellhole of pain? You think that if you just pranced on out of our lives, we'd be f*****g okay with it? I'm sorry that I could never give you the happiness you always wanted. Apparently, I was never enough to make you stay."
        She's trembling. Taken aback. It wasn't supposed to play out like this. He's supposed to be the comforter in her world of sadness. He was supposed to sympathize.
        "I don't care if you want to take your life. Fine. Whatever. But I'm still gonna care. And it's gonna hurt like hell. But girl. Just know that you're selfish. D****t, girl. Damn. You."
        He calmly stands erect, gazing down at her mascara-run face. His thumb reaches toward her cheek and etches away a smear of hazy black. Bending down, he softly kisses the spot he wiped away and exits the room in a complacent aura. She half expects him to slam the door, but all she's left with is a hollow click.
        She stares at the four walls surrounding her, noting how perfectly they gleamed. From faraway, she could never know how flawed they really were.