Dark Within

"Why did you go to pick her up?" Sarah's mom's voice thundered, freezing me mid-step as I attempted to exit the room.

"She needed help. I couldn't resist lending a hand," Sarah defended herself.

"Whatever. You shouldn't have gone to rescue her. Do you have any idea what trouble you could be in?" Her mother continued to shout.

"Nothing happened, Mum. I got her out safely," Sarah insisted.

"Shut up! Do you realize how risky that was? And what 'hell' are you talking about? She chose that life herself. She's responsible for it," her mom snapped.

"I know, Mum. But she's realized her mistake," Sarah tried to reason.

"When her own parents aren't supporting her in this time, who are you? Why should you help her? She deserves whatever punishment she gets for what she did to her parents," her mom argued vehemently.

Another bullet of harsh words was unleashed from the metaphorical gun, hitting me directly in the heart. It struck with precision, the impact forcing my back against the wall opposite the door. Slowly, I slid down, my strength giving way beneath the weight of her disapproval and judgment.

Her words pierced through me like a dagger, each one an undeniable truth. I deserved this, the fallout from being deceived by a guy. The pointing stares and echoing laughter seemed eternally bound to be my companions, my fate sealed. This was my fault, and this was the reward I reaped.

"Mum, as her friend, I had to help her, regardless of her past actions," Sarah tried to defend my position.

"I don't allow you to do that, considering the danger it brings with it. You forgot I told you to cut off contact with her. Why did you even answer her call?" Sarah's mother's voice roared, each point emphasizing the increasing intensity.

I felt as if the rope of hope, slippery and soaked in my own blood, was slipping through my grasp. Her sentences were like sharp blades, severing the fraying strands of the rope I clung to for as long as I could. Darkness enveloped me, swallowing me whole.

Yes, it was my fault, but I didn't deserve to be treated like this. No. No.

"Stop defending her in front of me. I won't allow this girl in my home. It's better if you end your friendship with her, or else I'll have to be strict with you too," she declared, firing the last bullet. It severed whatever feeble remnants of the rope were left.

"But Mum..." Sarah attempted to plead.

Sarah spoke, and I could discern the pain in her voice, mirroring the ache deep within my heart.

"No, Mum, you can't do this," Sarah pleaded.

"You better know I can do whatever I want. I'm your mother, don't teach me how to be one," her Mum retorted.

"Where will she go, Mom?" Sarah questioned.

It was the same question that had echoed in my mind since the moment I left his house, sat in her car, entered her room, woke up, opened the door, and endured the first bullet inside me. Throughout that time, I had asked myself this same question countless times.

"Where will I go, then?" I had no place to go. Going to my parents' house was not an option; I knew they wouldn't welcome me. Visiting Dillon's place was inconceivable. I would sooner choose death than go there again just because I had nowhere else to turn.

"Where will I go, then?" I asked myself, lost in the abyss of uncertainty.

"Where she goes is not your concern. She chose this punishment for herself. Now she should learn to deal with it. But one thing is clear; she won't be staying here," Sarah's mother's voice echoed with stern conviction, the words cutting through the heavy air like a chilling breeze.

"Mum, let her stay here until she finds another place," Sarah pleaded, her voice carrying a tone of compassion.

"No, she needs to leave our house as soon as possible. You have no idea how much destruction and shame she can bring upon us. What if her boyfriend reaches here in search of her and creates a fuss? Who would deal with him? Your Dad will also not be happy with her staying at our place in such circumstances," her mother reasoned, each word dropping like a weighted stone in the suffocating silence.

After she finished speaking, a dense quietness settled in, growing more intense with each passing moment. I felt shaken to my core, surrounded by a pool of blood that seemed to slip around me like a sinister river. Darkness enveloped every corner, and the echoes of unspoken bullets, blood, and silence reverberated in the air.

"Okay, Mum," Sarah reluctantly agreed, the surrender evident in her tone.

With that, everything went black. My world sank into the abyss—deep, dark, and hollow. There was nothing left to say or hear.

My heart skipped a beat, then stopped pumping any further blood to be spilled out of my body.

I lost consciousness. What happened after that, I couldn't remember anything at all.

My pulses ceased their rhythmic thumping, life's flow constricted, and my soul seemed to perch itself out of the cage, fluttering its white wings in the darkness—wild and free. My mind lost its grip on the events that unfolded afterward.

"Grace!" A distant voice echoed, as if someone was calling my name from the mouth of the abyss. In the deepest core, the voice reached me, pulling me out softly and swiftly, much like the gentle repetition of my name.

"Grace! Open your eyes," it urged once again.

My eyes reluctantly split open, greeted by a blurred vision. I tried to discern the face before me, but in my semiconscious state, all I could grasp was that it belonged to a man or a boy, somewhere between the ages of 17 and 18.

I forced my eyes shut again.

"Grace, look who's here!" Another voice, more feminine this time, echoed in my ears.

Once more, I reluctantly parted my eyes. The vision remained blurred, but the voice that resonated in my ears, calling my name, took mere seconds for my mind to recognize.

"Carl," I managed to speak.

"Is that you?"

"Yes, it's me. Open your eyes," he encouraged, rubbing his thumb gently on the back of my hand.

Tears streamed down my face, and I squeezed my eyes shut again, attempting to block out the pain pulsating within them.

I struggled to push away the haunting sentences of Sarah's mother, still echoing in my ears. The events that followed remained elusive in my memory; all I could recall was a sense of being dead. Who breathed life back into me? Who tenderly placed my body on this bed, tending to my wounds, from which I could still feel the lingering droplets of blood? Who captured the bird that had tasted freedom? Who brought me back from the brink?