The second I do, a calmness passes through me.
I’ve taken back control. My life is mine again. This is where it ends.
Pain creeps through my veins slowly, but I feel it. I feel all of it.
It makes me cry—not from the pain, but from the existing. From feeling something when I haven’t felt anything in weeks.
I can still feel.
One last time.
My head starts spinning. I feel weak and tired, so tired.
I fall back onto the sand.
Finally, I managed to kill someone—me.
I look up at Langston sitting on the sand, listening to my story.
That was the last time I remember crying.
The last time tears fell down my face.
I hold out my wrist where the scar remains but is now covered with a tattoo of the word ‘beautifully.’
“I killed myself that day.”
Langston shakes his head. “No, you survived.”
“No, the girl I was before that day flowed out from my veins. I killed her. I used to be kind, sweet, forgiving. After that, I became cynical, angry, bitchy. I became evil.”
Langston narrows his eyes, not sure what I’m going to say next or why I’m telling this story.
“How did you survive?” Langston asks with a heavy breath.
I stare at him, unblinking.
We both know the truth, but I won’t give him any credit.
“The devil saved me. He thought he was doing me a favor. He didn’t know he was only saving a monster.”
He looks away from me back out at the ocean. “Then, you got the tattoo so you wouldn’t have to walk around with the reminder every day.”
I look back at my wrist. “No, I got the tattoo to remind myself that I died beautifully, and that the beauty within me is now gone. All that remains is the wicked.”
“At least that’s the truth,” he mutters under his breath.
Our eyes meet again, cutting through each other.
We both know who found me that night.
I still don’t know why Langston saved me. I don’t know how he found me. I don’t know what happened. I just woke up in his arms.
“You won’t kill me, Langston. I’ll kill myself before you ever get the chance.”
20
Langston