Young Writers Society

(I'm kinda a first time writer...so...don't expect too much, I'm not that good....>_<)

Round and round we've gone in circles, and still we've only traversed a minor arc of the circumference of this never-ending fallacy that is our life. Round and round has life brought me, oh poor Jake, yes, a repetition, a repetition of what? A repetition of failure. 

The curse of failure...has bested my body and soul. The curse of stupidity. The curse of weakness. What happens, when one loses, over and over again? That person loses hope. At least, what happened to me, until I met Sylvia. I still remember the day we met. I had found Sylvia, alone in the school halls at night, crying in a corner, bleeding from her hands. I remember approaching her, offering a hand.

"Hey, there. What's wrong?" I had asked.

Sylvia sniffled. "My daddy...He..." She cried even more. "What about your dad?" She raised her head, revealing deathly pale skin, blue eyes, and graceful, flowing white hair. "He...He...He fought with my mommy. He said...He didn't want me. He said that...he didn't want to deal with..my autism..." 

Oh...God. Poor child. "Look...I'll help you, alright? I'll help you." I try to reach out to her hand, but she shies away. Guess she doesn't like physical touch. "You're more than just your dad's daughter. You're a special person. Alright?"

Sylvia looks up. "I...I guess...I'll let you help me. Are you...Are you like me?" I take a deep breath. "Not really. I'm just in...a similar situation as you are." Sylvia's crystal-blue eyes met with mine. "What situation are you in?"

I cough. "I'd rather not say. Maybe I'll tell you when I feel like it." Sylvia extends her hand, which is shaking violently. I grip her hand to stop it from shaking. "Alright. I'll help you. But maybe...you could help me too?"

Sylvia smiles. "I'll try my best!"

---

That was how Sylvia and I met. After that day, we became friends, and eventually lovers. However, our relationship wasn't exactly the best. Sylvia would rant out her problems to me, and I would rant out my problems to her. Eventually, it devolved into us getting into drinking to cope with our problems. We would hold each other, cry in each others' arms, and eventually, we decided that...life was a lost cause. We would try, and try and try, but life would never give us the victory, the one that we deserved so much, the one we worked to. 

Sylvia's autism eventually got worse, to the point where her mannerisms became obvious in public, and she would more often throw temper tantrums. It was a never-ending loop where Sylvia needed me to give her the love that she never had, and she gave me the feeling of being needed by someone.

Eventually, our relationship devolved to drowning in our own sadness until we ran out of tears. When that happened, we would vent out our anger on several punching bags in the gym.

However, it all changed on that day. I had went out, and went out, and then found a letter on a table in our apartment. THE BRIDGE. MEET ME, JAKE, AND WE WILL BE RID OF OUR SUFFERING. Oh, no. I rushed out from the apartment as fast as fast as possible, towards the bridge. Was she going to...No. Then I saw her. Her silky white hair, flowing in the wind, facing the boundless sea that lay before her. She turned her head, and I saw...A manic Sylvia. Her face was contorted into a wide smile.

"You've come, Jake! Now we can do it together!" Oh, no. Is she...She had too much to drink. It's okay. I'll just bring her back, and-WHAM. Before I know it, I find myself on the floor. Sylvia bashes my head in the floor, causing me to feel...Giddy. Is this death?

"Heh...Hah...Jake..." She carries my body to the edge of the bridge. "Jake...We'll be rid of this world, this cursed world..!" She kisses me on the lips, delicately, before, with me in her arms, she jumps off the bridge.

---

Where am I? I don't feel much. I feel the churning of water...Darkness. I wake up with a jolt. 10:30 A.M. Was this...a dream? I wake up, and check the stock market. Exactly the same as today's. Today's crossword. Exactly the same. Was this really...What they called a time loop? Then was I truly...dead? Did Sylvia and I really commit a double suicide? 

...No. I was given an opportunity. I would not let Sylvia die. Really? a small voice echoes in my mind. And why is that? Do you really wanna save Sylvia? Or do you want her because you need her? 

Shut up. I slap myself a little, and with a solemn face, I leave my bedroom.