We stood on the edge of reason together. The wind was harsh, blowing her hair all over; constantly shielding my view of the world. The rain hid her tears, but her voice pushed itself up into her mouth often; she was crying; at war with her thoughts; at war with me.
“Don't you do it,” I whispered, fear pulling me back slowly into depths of darkness.
Empathy flooded me. I could hear her every thought. Her every desire. She wanted me gone; I was distracting her.
I hate this, she thought – those cried, too. I hate my life! I hate everything! It's not fair; its so friggen retarded!
“C'mon, you, ya'know what's right.”
Just -- shut the hell up! That one was finally directed to me. I know this because she was shaking her head, eyes shut tight. It was her way of trying to get rid me from the inside. It never worked, though, because it was my job to care; to guide and protect her, and I never have and never will stop trying. In my case of darkness – the darkness she bestowed upon me, unintentionally, I'm sure – I tumbled all over the place; in every direction, I think. When I fell back down, I lifted my head, eyes weary and shoulders bowed.
“Please...” I said. “Ya'know you don't wanna do this. Please.”
Her voice finally escaped; it seemed to thrust suddenly, its tone full of agony. She was holding onto the window frame on either side of her, and when she started to sob, her body leaned forward. I looked through her eyes – which were stricken with apprehension and anxiety – mine suddenly widening, and the dark, chaotic world rose.
We fell together. Her thoughts were as hectic as the storm, her screams blending with thunder. She was beginning to regret the decision to jump; to end her life. She was scared all of a sudden. At the same time, however, she knew this was what she wanted. She felt so strongly – and for years now – that there was no place in this cruel world for her; she was elusive; absolutely no one understands her; a waste of space and explanation; a bad fit. The ground was rushing toward us. This was it. The end of our existence.
I don't know where we are; everything is black.
Daddy...? She thought faintly. I braced myself as her head rolled. I'm so sorry...ugh...
She was in pain, barely remembering the past. Her face grimaced and I felt for her. Somehow, I believe we're still alive. We must be...her heart is beating – irregularly, but beating nonetheless. Her brain must still be active, also, because I'm still here. Talking to myself where she can't hear me. Worrying. Just then, I heard faint feminine voices and only caught some of what was being said:
“No...but they foun...not inside...”
“Why? I can't...it's...”
“Right...and yes, she...mm-hm, very lucky girl.”
She moaned and her eyes fluttered, barely opening. I caught a glimpse of two figures standing near an open door, wearing white. It was dark, the place bathed in a dim grey light. Her eyes closed.
Where am I? She thought, and seemed slightly satisfied with the perceived situation. I knew what she was about to add before she did; her nonverbal thought had already processed her presumption. A hospital. She kinda liked the sound of that. No school, lots of attention, unfamiliarity from home; unfamiliarity from him.
Someone had come into the room after some time, and she pretended to be asleep. The person pulled up a chair next to her – the sound of its legs resting on the tiled floor at our bedside. Then, he placed his hand on her forehead. I know it was a he; I remember his deceiving touch. It was naturally rough, big, and firm.
“Kate,” he said lowly, his thumb rubbing a swollen area. “Why?”
Her eyes remained closed. She was good at pretending. She pretended the bruises on her body were nothing when people asked. Pretended she liked her father's caress when they'd cuddle near the fire at home, all snug and junk. Pretended she was happy. Now, he believed she was sleeping. His conscience was easily read, because it was always at work from being constantly ignored. It was begging him to lay off. Reminding him that she was his daughter. Reminding him that she was asleep; defenceless. He was sick of its repetitive efforts.
His hand clutched her head and squeezed the best it could, and through clenched teeth he said, “Why Katelyn?”
She made a noise and hardly tossed. “Stop,” she pleaded under her breath.
“Ya'know what's best for you,” I told her, blind as a bat and oblivious to any possible actions he might take next. “Don't give in; open your eyes.”
His conscience was going crazy. It was pulling away into the back of his mind, nearly crying. This made me nervous.
Kate held her mouth ajar but nothing would come out. She wanted to tell him to get his hands off her, but even if she could get the words flowing, she wouldn't know how to go about it. For a while now, she has been his puppet. She was forgiving, though...because she loved him, no doubt; he was her father; her – ahem, secondary – protector. But with me around, I knew she knew between right and wrong. It's just, he's all she knows. His actions; all she knows. Deep down – where I usually linger – she's aware of the fact that he has no morals, but she wouldn't know where else to go on this Earth without him. Death always seemed the best way to go.
“Kate! Get up if you know what's best for you! You do! You do!” I shouted, with the frenetic pleas of his conscience ringing in my hollow head.
Stop! She thought. Please...
“You were trying to get away from me, weren't you?” He whispered loudly, his thoughts getting louder; closer.
He was furious that she fell from her bedroom window. He just knew that she was trying to commit suicide. We all knew. In complete darkness, I was overwhelmed with tension and voices...so many voices.
A sound rumbled passed her lips and adrenaline-like apprehension managed to pull her eyes open. She looked over at him. His expression was dense, and his eyes bloodshot. Still hasn't shaved that beast off his upper lip I see. He grabbed her neck and she couldn't breathe – initially, her breathing was laboured.
“You're going to recover,” he ordered, leaning so close to her that his lips brushed her ear. He then kissed it and she tried to pull away but, of course, failed miserably. Her eyebrows were pulled together with discomfort and anger. “And then, come home. Like a good girl.”
Her terrible breathing frightened her. Eyes starting to close. I grew weak...
“Kate!” I said. “Kate...! Don't...”