Drawing Hope In Progress (5H/you)

Chapter 69

Need You Still by Ivan B, Keith Fontano

Y/n's pov:

Red. The color of anger and rage. Of strength and passion, fear and ego.

I'm led out of the studio space by the police officers, the world on mute as I glue my eyes to the floor as I try to stop imagining the blood spattering along the back of my leg. They were smart. Realized that he could not threaten more than he had already shown. So they his legs, wounding him and catching him off guard long enough for them to take control.

My eyes lift to the girls, who run and hug me. I try to ignore the man in front of me, who is currently getting daggers shot at him from the glares the girls gave him. Ally and Normani had to hold Dinah back from ripping him to shreds. I watch the hope in their eyes twinkle as they surround me and hold me, leading us to the elevator.

Orange. The color of courage and thoughtfulness. The representation of lack of will.

He had held me down. Taken my freedom and faith. He drowned me in pain and horrors that I had no choice but to stand to. They call me brave and strong, unbreakable and unstoppable.

But they do not see that I am broken and hurt. Falling to pieces right in front of them as they go about their days and talk about the weather and politics.

The girls each have a hold on me in some way as we ride the elevator to the lobby. Dinah and Normani both have a hand on one of my shoulders while Ally holds my left hand, humming and Lauren holds my right. I try to control my shaking as the girls stay close to me, Lauren rubs her thumb soothingly on the back of my hand. I close my eyes and try to control my breathing to each of her strokes. Ally's quiet humming relaxing me slightly.

They don't know that while I was in that room I was hoping the police officers would shoot me. I wished that they had ended me.

I'm not brave. I'm selfish. I wanted to die. I didn't want to live with myself or the pain anymore. I wanted to leave this world knowing that there are people here that care greatly about me and love me and would be devastated if I died or left them. I wanted to choose no pain over my loved ones. How is that bravery? How is that courage?

I stand in between these four because of fate, not because I am brave. I stand, shaking in the elevator with 4 of my closest friends because it wasn't my day. And I have to live with that and live with what has happened and I have no help. No... I do have help, but I cannot be fixed. I can not be saved.

I have scars on my wrists. That did not heal in a beautiful way. They are a reminder that I am torn and shattered, they are proof that I am weak.

Their humming gets louder as I feel my breathing pick up. I stare straight forward at the reflective elevator doors. Stare at nothing. Stare to oblivion. I am not okay. I need help.

"I need help."

Yellow. A color that holds intellect and friendliness. The color of one who is led and indecisiveness.

I feel their arms wrap around me as we continue down the floors. I'm sure they're saying sweet, positive things that I cannot hear as my mind tears.

"You have all been so kind to me."

I feel reflective as the colors of my world meld. The blurred blobs of our figures dancing like fire before me on the metallic doors.

I just want to be happy. To be proud to be me. To see what they see.

All I've ever wanted was a feeling of belonging. That I should be here. That I was meant to be here. But that feeling cannot come from a shattered heart. It cannot come mend what cannot be undone.