43
Briella
“DO YOU WANT DEATH, BRIELLA?”
Citizen Soldier Playlist
“It Can’t Rain Forever”
“Would Anyone Care?
“Never Ending Nightmare”
“Wish I Could Cry” - Citizen Soldier feat Halocene
“Death of Me”
“Live Again”
“If I Surrender”
The sky is trying to drown me.
The rain falls in heavy sheets, lashing my face like a thousand tiny needles.
My waterproof jacket shields my torso, but my hair is plastered to my scalp, the icy cold streams crawling down my neck, finding their way beneath the collar. The canvas gardening gloves I managed to swipe and hide were not built for this weather. My hands are frozen, numb things I barely recognize anymore. The hiking pants cling to my legs, soaked through at the knees and ankles from the endless trudge through mud and thorny undergrowth. Every step feels heavier than the last.
The storm rages around me, thunder cracking overhead like the sky itself is breaking apart. Like it knows the inside of my soul.
I keep moving.
Not because there’s somewhere safe out here. Not because I have a plan.
But because stopping would feel too much like giving up.
Thunder rumbles through the trees, shaking the ground beneath my boots. Lightning splits the sky in jagged veins of light above the Redwood trees.
I don’t even slow down.
Every branch that slashes my arms, every stone that turns beneath my feet, I welcome them. I’m still here, still dragging this worthless body through a world that doesn’t want it.
At least the storm means any animals are already holed up, hiding. No snapping jaws. No glowing eyes in the night. No company but my own monsters.
They’re louder than ever. They cut through my mind like razors.
Why did you think you could stay?
Why did you think you could let them see you?
You always ruin it. Always.
I press the thought down, crushing it into the pit of my stomach where it festers with the rest. I keep moving, half-slipping on wet rocks and roots, my pulse pounding drumbeats in my veins.
It’s not bravery. It’s punishment.
Because deep down…I thought maybe I belonged there. With them.
Raphael, Jude, Vincent, Seth—even Rory—maybe they could look past the ruin of me and see something worth keeping.
