I wonder if she saw it, the scar on my arm. The one that I kept hidden from the world. The one that haunted me for years on end. It is evidence that I was - I am - weak. A long incision stretching from my wrist to middle of my forearm. Made with nervous, furiously shaking hands, and one movement. I knew next to nothing about the human body, let alone what to do to make the most damage. Blood loss was going to kill me anyway.
Her thin fingers traced up and down the pink paler flesh.
"Why do you hide it?" She asked slowly, lacing her fingers with mine.
Her eyes searched longingly for mine. I looked at her. By God, she was beautiful. When she stood, she stood tall. There was always confidence in her smile, a bounce in her step, and a twinkle in her eye. That's why I fell madly in love with her. With short chestnut curls, and a bit of extra flesh on her bones. She wasn't't chubby, no, she was perfect. Even right now, with concern twirling in her eyes, she is beautiful.
"I want nothing to do with it." I said.
Nothing to do with it. I am running away. Chasing clouds, because I am afraid. I was in a dark place, shadows embraced me when the only light was scary. They told me things about me I didn't know, things I didn't think were true, but they sold it. Men in white. They told me that I was different, that I could be helped, that I could change.
I shoved my hand in my pocket. I felt something. My fingers curled around it, cautiously pulling it out. A singular blue-and-white pill and a little yellow piece of paper. I slowly unfold the paper, careful not to tear it. Crayon sprawled across the page. Stick figures of a man and a little girl holding hands next to a house. Flowers decorated the page. On the bottom, written with blue crayon, was 'Grandma's nice but I miss you daddy, Get well soon! - Sarah'. The 'r' was written the other way round.
"Are you going to drink that?" The beautiful brunette asked slowly and quietly, like a whisper, strong with emotion.
Tears welled up in my eyes. I recognised the handwriting and the name. My hands stroke the paper. Lift it up to my face, I could still smell her. Sarah. Images flashed in my mind. Sarah's first steps, her birthdays, her laugh, her smile. I can remember the first time I held her in my arms. I turn to the woman next to me. I see Sarah's nose, Sarah's smile, Sarah's mischievous green eyes. Then I see the woman who sat on the hospital bed with a proud grin on her face, 'It's a girl Mark!', and the woman who left me to the care of a six-year-old girl.
"Sarah needs me, Our daughter needs me." I said, releasing her hand. I caress her cheek and give her a final kiss.
"I love you, but I can't stay." I whispered.
"I know."
And with a gulp the pill went through my body. Commanding my brain, pulling me back. Wake up! Everything around me fades. I feel a heavy weight on me. I pull on my shirt, push out what felt like closing walls. I gasp and scream.
My eyes snapped open. My senses are alive, my heart is beating loud. Men in white surround me, their mouths covered, pulling me, and tugging me. Their eyes filled with hope and wonder, "You made it Mark". A white bright light shines in my face, but this time, I am not afraid.
And I'll try to clear up the story.
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