Chapter 6

 

Violet

 

This is my last attempt to try to make the pain go away, the last attempt to fill the void in my heart. I just hope it works because nothing else seems to.

I’m standing on the edge of the raging river, watching it flow powerfully over the rocks, curving around the bends, dipping beneath the bridge. Beauty at its finest. I wish I was a painter or a photographer, so I could capture it. I wish I were a lot of things. Or, at least I wish I knew what I wanted to be. Maybe life would be easier if I had direction, a purpose, other than always drifting like the leaves in the water.

I blink the long sequences of thoughts from my mind, ones created from the adrenaline coursing through me, along with an abundance of alcohol. I force myself to step up to where the rushing water meets the sandy shore. I’m only procrastinating, distracting myself from what I came here to do, another attempt at shutting off my emotions after several failed ones.

Today, it’s been hard to calm myself down. I’m not sure why. Am I more scared than usual? No. Have I changed my mind? Definitely not. Once I decide I need to do this, there is no going back. I’ve reached the emotional point I can’t deal with—don’t know how to deal with—and this is the only way I know how. It’s what I’ve been doing for years. It’s no longer a habit or an escape, but a part of me, ingrained into my skin like my tattoos.

“I need this,” I whisper,

Then, with a deep breath, I wade into the violent water. It soaks through my clothes and hits my skin instantly, a thousand tiny needles, warning me to go back. However, I keep going forward until I’m submerged to the waist… the chest… the neck… I can barely keep my legs under me now. The power of the water fights to tug me under, suck me up, take me away. Part of me wants to let it, wants to lift my feet up and get carried away into the unknown. I have no idea if I’ll survive and that’s kind of the point. The terrifying, intoxicating point. Nevertheless, the little will left inside me, the will that whispers that it’s not just me anymore, begs me to put up a fight.

“I don’t know if I want to anymore,” I call over the water. “I’m so tired of fighting just so I can tread with my head above the water.” The sound of my voice gets lost in the roar of the water as I stand there waiting for… well, I’m not sure. An answer of what I should do? Where do I go from here?

There’s no answer, though, and the only choice I have is to wade back to shore. Maybe it’s not the only choice. After all, I could just give up right now, but I’m not. I’m choosing to go back to my life, to my home, to the people in it. What does that mean?

Unsure, I start to turn around toward the shore again, but mid-turn, my feet get ripped out from under me. Suddenly I’m engulfed by water, my head slamming into a rock as I try to grab onto something, desperately seeking to get my footing, but I don’t stand a chance. The water’s too strong and my head is fuzzy from the bump. I can barely see anything. Water… rocks… water… swirling in the center of it.

Oh my God, I’m going to die.

I’ve never had that thought before. Never truly thought I was going to die through all the things I’ve done. I’ve pushed myself to the edge, but I always knew the point where I’d cross the ‘No Going Back Line’ and never crossed it.

Now I’ve crossed it.

And I’m going to fucking die right now.

I want to cry because I’m not ready for this, not ready to go. I try to yell for help, remembering that there were people just up the shore, but every time I open my mouth, I swallow huge gulps of water. So instead, I fight for my life. I fight like a goddamn person who wants to live more than anything else in the world. I’m surprised by how much I fight, how much I want to make it back to the shore, how much I want my life, how much I see the things I want… see the people I want.

I swear, in the midst of it, I hear my father’s voice, telling me to be strong. I swear, I see him, too, swimming toward me, trying to help me get back to the shore. It’s just an illusion though. And the person’s face shifts into someone else as they get closer.

But it’s someone.

Someone who can maybe save me. Because God, I want to be saved.

People are yelling in the distance, and I can see the person getting closer. I reach for them and they reach for me, our fingers so close as water swishes over my head and rocks slam at my body. But suddenly, a wave rips over me and just like that, the person gets ripped away. Just like the water rips me away.