Rosie's Thorns 🥀|18+|🥀

38 | Not Him

⚠️Mention of suicide and suicidal thoughts.⚠️

《¤Mío¤》

He's dead. He's dead because of me.

It was a relentless chant in his mind before I came forward. His mind was nothing but chaos and self destruction. Words. Faces. Death. All of it was swirling within his mind in a never-ending whirlpool that sucked him into the depths further and further away from the surface.

He was drowning on dry land. If I hadn't fronted when I did, I doubted whether he wouldn't have caused himself harm or someone else.

At that thought, my eyes fell to her. She stood out amongst the inky darkness surrounding us. Her pale skin, the white fuzzy pajama set she'd decided to wear, and her hair. Up close her vibrant pink hair was like a beacon beckoning me to the one lone woman crazy enough to love a man who can hardly control himself.

She was barely a foot away from me. If she were to take a step back she'd step into me. Even her brown roots from hair growth were visible in the barely there light of the moon. Her arms were wrapped around herself as her weight shifted from one foot to the other. She shivered. Whether from the faint warm breeze or my proximity, I wasn't sure.

"How would you know?" She spit back at my prior statement.

How did I know? How did I know he was falling apart? How did I know that he was on the cusp of self elimination?

I was him, fully aware and unable to react at all times, but him nonetheless. I'm that silent echo in the back of his mind. That silent echo that beckons him to take action. That very same echo that he decides to ignore until eventually he snaps.

Then I come forward to carry out what he can't.

Lately, it's become clear that those lines are blurring. Where he used to resist and I used to shove, he now shoves and I resist. Mine was for vengeance. His is for self destruction.

I can't let that happen.

"He's losing to the battle within his mind." I say carefully, tip toeing around the true topic. "I'm here because he's losing himself. He's losing his grasp on his will. He's on the brink of letting everything consume him alive."

Her breathing is coming out in short hard bursts as her fingers dig into her sides. "He's... he isn't-"

I didn't want to say it. She was on the brink of her own downfall as we speak. The way her breathing came out ragged and short. The way her body swayed dizzedly. Everything pointed to the subtle hint of a panic attack.

"Oh god." She let out a pained short breath. "He is."

Suicidal? Yes, I'm sorry to say he is.

My lips pressed into a thin line as I watched her head bow and her shoulders tremble.

"Can I talk to him?" She hiccuped, her breathing barely allowing her words to be comprehensible.

"I don't have control-"

She spun so quickly she almost lost balance. Without so much as a second thought, I stepped forward and grabbed her shoulders as her hands latched onto my arms for support. Her emerald eyes were wide, face blanched, cheeks red, as her chest heaved.

"Please, try!" She demanded of me. "You have to try. He can't... I won't let him... No!" She couldn't finish the thought. She couldn't let herself admit her beloved Dom would want to fall into the cold embrace of death. "Mío, please try!"

My eyes closed on their own accord as I grimaced. Mío. I'd grown to like the name. I'd grown comfortable with her. It wasn't right. She was his. Yet he wanted to leave her...