#TO DEFEND MYSELF THOSE WERE INTENTIONAL SINCE IT WAS FASTER TO DIE THAN FINISH THE FIGHTS

[todayisafridaynight]

stream over WOOO SUB THREE HOUR TYSM TO EVERYONE WHO SHOWED UP <-- thought id go on to at least 3:20

i have once again beat Yakuza 3 for the upteenth time

and now you can watch me do it again Live or whatever at ~3:30PM (EST) on This Motherfucker Site

[jamesbucksiclebarnes]

Rating: Mature

Chapter List: [1] | [2] | [3] | [4] | [5]

[AO3 Link] | [Fic Page]

SERIES SUMMARY:

"Not human. She was not human. They all knew it. Could almost feel it, but couldn't make sense of it. That was why they were afraid. Not because of what she used to be Before. But because of what she was now."

Having found herself serving as the right-hand to the Governor for too long, Synnove le Jacques does her best to make things right with the people of the Prison. Stuck beside her partner in crime, her irritatingly obnoxious and hideously problematic best friend, Merle, she does her best to fight back against the monster she has let the Governor become.

CHAPTER TITLE: The Consequence of Morality.

It was easy to forget how fragile humans could be. How easily their bodies break, their minds more so. I should have seen it sooner. The decay. The absolute descent from decent man to homicidal lunatic. Really, it should have been clear as day to me. I’d been with the man since the beginning. Followed his lead. Obeyed his orders because I believed he stood for the good of all those still left alive in this goddamn hellscape.

We had been strangers once. At the beginning.

He, his daughter, and his wife had been waiting in the seen-better-days room outside the hanger of the private airport out west. It had been a present from his wife. A single day of flight lessons from a local pilot.

Me, on the other hand? Well, I’d been waiting for my getaway plane. My day job wasn’t exactly within the realm of legality and, often, I’d find myself requiring a rather speedy exit from the immediate vicinity. That time was no different. I did my job and got out of there like any self-respecting worker would do.

I’m still unsure whether it was his luck or mine that allowed us to be within the same place at the same time that day. The answer would likely change depending on which one of us you asked. I say it was my luck. He would say it was his. Either way, we both lucked out that day.

Well, as much as one could “luck out” at the beginning of the fucking apocalypse.

I had gotten him and his daughter to safety, along with the handful of other occupants of the hanger that day. His wife didn’t make it. She was the first to go. I’d had to drag him away from her in order to make sure the kid didn’t become a damn orphan within the space of two minutes.

After we escape the airfield, we made our way steadily towards the nearby town. We had passed by the prison. I remembered that quite clearly. The screams coming from behind those brick walls were horrendous. Lucky for the rest of them, I was the only one that could hear them.

The town was owned by the dead when we arrived. We should have known better, but it was only the beginning. There were many lessons we had yet to learn.

Myself and two of the others cleared a way to the towering city hall building at the centre of town, barricading the doors for good measure. We held up in there for almost three days before Phil came up with that brilliant plan of his.

Build walls, he said, like it was going to be easy. Build them high and strong to keep the dead at bay.

And we did.

It was hard work. Keeping the dead back long enough to place another panel, building more and more each day until the bodies piling up were almost as high as the fence itself. That was my job, of course. Killing them. I was good at it and the rest of them knew it. In fact, I was too good at it and I knew it unnerved some of them. Especially Marcus.

Often, I’d find him eyeing me up from across the room, as if he expected I would leap up and murder him on the spot for absolutely no reason. I’d been quite transparent about my profession since the start, believing it would solidify a sense of trust, but Phillip and Milton were the only ones that didn’t look at me like I was a criminal. Phil, I think, saw the benefit of having someone like me on his side. Milton just accepted it because I was the only one that would listen to him go on about his scientific theories.

It was only after the walls were finished around our newly thriving little community that Marcus made his move.

I wish I could say I hadn’t expected it. But they’d made their intentions glaringly obvious from the get-go. He, Zach, and Luke did their best to catch me off guard during my nightly rounds. Their best wasn’t good enough.

I didn’t kill all of them, of course. We had gained almost twenty new members to our community, many of which were small families. I doubted my straight-up murdering folks would make them feel at home. Marcus, however… He’d had to go.

Once I told Phil what they’d tried to do, Zach and Luke were the first to be exiled.

There’s only been a handful others we’d kicked out since then. Mostly newcomers that refused to get with the program.

I don’t quite know when I became the general of a small army. Nor I do I even remember at what point Phillip became “the Governor”. I don’t even know when I started calling him that if it was before or after Marcus. All I know is, it happened.

Those of us that could fight, that were unafraid of the undead, were sent outside the walls to scavenge and recruit. We were partnered up, given whatever weapons we wanted from the small armoury, and sent out into the world of the dead with a little pat on our backs.

My partner had been… a challenge, for lack of a better term. He was this pasty, old white guy with a dirty mind and a Southern mouth. Sexist, racist, and whatever other “ist” you could think of – this guy was it. And, my God, for a guy with one hand he could sure be handsy. At least, he had been for the first ten or so minutes after we’d first met. Once I’d made it very clear I had little issue cutting off his other hand and feeding it to him, he’d kept it to himself.

Other than that, as a woman with dark skin who was from another country – even one as benign as Australia – it had been a little… tense between Merle and I for a while there.

But, somehow – and I don’t even know at what point we decided we didn’t hate each other anymore – we started getting along. Inside jokes, begrudging respect, and a ride-or-die attitude – we had the whole nine-yards. It came to the point that, suddenly, this redneck, trailer trash, white boy knew me better than anyone. And I knew him. We traded stories like they were currency and barely spent more than a few hours apart. Which was weird, in retrospect, but at the time, it hadn’t felt that way. He was like a brother to me. An older, obnoxiously irritating and horribly problematic brother.

And, as strange as it was, the feeling seemed to be mutual. He’d jump in to defend my honour at every opportunity. One of the guardsmen looking at my backside? His fist would be in their face before I even had a chance to turn around. He knew I could have done it myself – in fact, as much as he said otherwise, I knew some of the things I could do freaked him out a little. Mostly, it was the things he couldn’t explain away – like how I could hear things that he couldn’t or how my reflexes were just a fraction faster than was humanly plausible. Thankfully, he gave up questioning me about it rather quickly, and now just kind of… accepted my weirdness. For which I was thankful.

It was hard trying to come up with logical explanations about my oddities without outright lying about them.

Anyway, the two of us served beneath the Governor’s rule for longer than either of us would like to admit. I wish I could say I knew the exact moment his orders became less than favourable. To be honest, I hadn’t thought to question them. My entire life had been spent listening to orders and obeying them with little enquiry. I’d grown somewhat suspicious of his mindset near the end, there, but the only thing I could actually pinpoint was the exact moment I decided I’d had enough.

It was that night, in the haphazardly put together cells out by the old warehouse. We had brought in two strangers, members of a rival group that had made their home in the once-overrun prison. It had been a completely coincidental run-in. We had been out looking for a woman, a newcomer that had caused some “trouble”. We managed to track her to a series of small shops out by a deserted strip of road. I went around the back while my partner surveyed the storefronts. She was lucky I spotted her first. I didn’t know what he would have done with her. While I had made my growing concerns about the Governor’s current state of mind clear, he hadn’t deigned to share his opinion of the man with me.

At first, she had looked at me with suspicion. The woman I knew as Michonne had seen how close I was with the Governor, knew it was his orders I followed. But when I had jerked my head toward the field behind me, indicating for her to make a run for it, understanding dawned on her face. I was letting her go.

Unfortunately, that was right at the exact moment I heard a voice I didn’t know ask, “Merle?”

A young Asian man and a pretty, petite woman were standing out the front of one of the stores, looking up at Merle as if he had just sprouted horns from his thinning head of hair. I peeked around the corner just in time to watch Merle lift his gun and decided it was likely best to intervene before he got too trigger-happy, like he usually did.

I kept things relatively calm for about three entire seconds before Merle pistol-whipped the poor guy and forced him into the driver’s seat of the nearby sedan. The two of us piled in behind them and instructed them to drive back to the gates of Woodbury.

Everything just seemed to escalate from there.

We threw the two strangers, whose names I learned were Maggie and Glenn, into the barely kept-together cells and began our interrogation. And by “our interrogation” I mean the Governor and Merle’s attempts at intimidation.

Merle’s I could handle. It was nothing I hadn’t seen before. Berating the guy, beating him, tossing a biter in there – the usual. But the Governor?

I had been standing in the room with Merle, watching him berate Glenn, probing him for answers about the group making their home inside the prison fences, when I heard it. The sound of his belt was oddly stark against the soft sobs making their way through the solid metal wall. I knew the other two couldn’t hear it. It didn’t matter.

That was the moment I drew the line. The second I heard that belt, I knew what I had here in Woodbury was over.

Without a second of hesitation, I spun on my heel and marched out the cell door. Martinez was standing outside it, keeping guard, and caught my eye as I made my way down the hall a step to the next door down. His eyes were wide as he shook his head.

“Don’t,” he warned me.

I didn’t listen.

Lifting my booted foot, I kicked down the door to the cell next door and strode across the empty space to where the Governor stood, still undoing his belt. Maggie sat across the metal table from him, naked from the waist up, arms crossed over her bare chest as tears slid down her cheeks.

The Governor turned to face me at the sound of my sudden entrance. I pushed him aside as I peeled off my own shirt and gave it to the sobbing woman. Rapid footsteps sounded by the doorway and I knew both Merle and Martinez were standing there, watching as I rounded on the Governor with fire in my gaze.

He snarled at me. “What do you think you’re doing, Jacques?”

“Putting a stop to this,” I snapped in response, stepping back around the table.

The Governor did his best to stare me down, but he was about as intimidating to me as a baby lamb. “You don’t get to make that decision!” he screamed, spittle flying from his thin lips. “I give the orders here! Me, not you!”

“And I’ve obeyed them!” I yelled. “But I can’t stand by and let you do this. It’s not right and you know it!”

The Governor looked as if he were about to explode. His face was red, and his mouth kept opening and closing as if he were trying to form a response. I turned my back on him before he could, reaching out for Maggie, who had turned around to shield herself as she pulled my shirt over her head. Gently, I took her arm and began leading her towards the doorway.

Merle gave me a warning look, shaking his head just as Martinez had done. Martinez was a close friend, and Merle was my partner in crime, but I didn’t listen to either of them. Instead, I pushed my way through, pulling Maggie along with me as I lead her back into the cell where Glenn sat. The tears that had been steadily spilling down her cheeks increased tenfold when she saw what Merle’s fists had done to Glenn’s face. Once I let her go, she ran to him and began to cry as he asked her what the Governor had done.

She didn’t get a chance to answer.

The man himself burst through the partially closed door and made to grab me by the arm. I sensed him coming and spun out of his reach, turning to face him with a sneer.

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” I hissed.

The Governor looked slightly taken aback. I hadn’t spoken to him like that for a long time. Too long, it would seem. “You think you can just do what you want?” he snapped back, throwing an arm wildly in the direction of the two prisoners behind me. “You want to end up in here, too? Be my guest.”  

Merle took a tentative step forwards, lifting his one remaining hand in a surrendering gesture.  “Oh, come now. Ya don’t need to be like that, Governor. She’s sorry. Ain’t cha, Jacques?”

“Not really,” I replied plainly. “No.”

The exasperated look he gave me would have been comical in any other situation. What had he really expected? He knew I wouldn’t – couldn’t – lie. Besides, like hell I was going to apologise for stopping him raping a woman. Jesus Christ. I may be an assassin, but I wasn’t a monster.

“Have you forgotten who’s in charge here?” the Governor asked, his voice returning to a normal volume, though underneath the blasé tone I could hear his growing contempt.  “Which one of us gives the orders and which one takes them?”

“Have you?” I responded, cocking my head to the side to regard him with cold, narrowed eyes.

The Governor blinked in surprise, his right eye twitching as he tried to make sense of my reply.

I gave him the curtesy of elaborating, making sure to emphasise each hissed sentence with a step in his direction. “Did you really think you had control over me? That I wasn’t only following your orders because I agreed with them? Do you think that highly of yourself that you forgot, for a moment, who I am? What I can do?”

The Governor’s legs seemed to act without his permission, pulling him back, matching my every step forward with one back. He retreated until I came to a stop, looking down at him despite the few inches of difference in our heights.

“If I had wanted that crown of yours, Philip, I’d fucking take it and there would be nothing you could do to stop me.” I stared at him with my piercing blue eyes until he dropped his gaze, swallowing, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead.

A moment of silence passed before I returned to my usual casual lean, the tension in my body evaporating almost instantly as the intensity in my gaze dissipated.

“Now that we’ve covered that,” I began in a chipper tone. “I’d like to continue by stating that I happen to believe freeing these two in good nature would be in our best interests as a community. However, if you say otherwise, I won’t argue.” Because I’d be wasting by breath.

The silence continued to stretch for another few moments before the Governor raised his gaze back up to meet mine once again. I could see the steely resolve in them, the growing sense of distrust and malcontent. He spoke in that authoritative voice, as if I hadn’t just put him in his place merely a few minutes ago.

“We keep them here.”

And that had been that.

Kind of.

No more than a few hours later, Glenn and Maggie’s people infiltrated Woodbury.

I had returned to the cells mere minutes before I knew of their presence, knocking the working guard unconscious – sorry, Andy – and picking the lock open to set them free. My intention, of course, had been to lead them out to the loose panel in the eastern fence, escorting them to safety. That had not exactly panned out, as the people from the prison had decided to launch their attack whilst I was partway through leading Glenn and Maggie to the cellblock’s exit. Once the smoke grenades went off, I brought them both to a stop and explained to them the best way to escape, telling them to keep low in the smoke and wishing them luck before we parted ways.

As much as I knew in theory that I was done in this place, I hadn’t quite accepted it emotionally just yet. After all, I had plenty of friends here, people I almost considered family. It didn’t feel right to fight on the opposite side, not in such an outright way as taking the prison’s side in this.

I should have just gone with them. I wouldn’t have ended up here if I’d just gone.

If it had been anyone other than fucking Martinez that came for me that night, I would have fought back. And I think he knew it, too. The apologetic look he gave me before forcing me up against the side of the building to chain my wrists together was the only thing that stopped me from punching him directly in the nose.

He put a bag over my head and dragged me out to the warehouse, where the sounds of curious, excited chatter met my ears. I could only partially see through the cotton fabric covering my face, but it was enough to make out the shape of the stands we often used during our Game Nights. They were as full as they’d ever been, overflowing with the townsfolk who had no doubt been gathered at the behest of the Governor.

His voice cut through the aimless whispers surrounding him, crisp and authoritative as he announced the purpose behind tonight’s entertainment.

“What can I say?” he asked the gathered people of Woodbury. “There hasn’t been a night like this since before the walls were completed.”

Yeah. Thanks to me. I wanted to scream, to yell at the people that our “fearless” leader had lost his damn mind, but I couldn’t. Not yet. Martinez still held my arm, keeping me in my place at the edge of the biter-lined arena. On the other side, I could see another figure being dragged forwards, bag over his head.

I knew who it was from the dirty wife-beater alone and gave an internal groan. Of course, the one time I wasn’t with him when he did something stupid, he got himself caught.

“I thought we were past it. Past the days when we all sat, huddled, scared in front of the TV during the early days of the outbreak. The fear we all felt then… we felt it again tonight.”

I could barely make out his shape, standing at the back of the stands, a blonde figure sitting in the place beside him. Andrea. She had come to Woodbury alongside Michonne; yet hadn’t heeded the other woman’s warnings. Nor had she listened to mine, when I’d tried to encourage caution around the man she was taking to bed. Well, she was about to learn. As were they all.

“I failed you!” the Governor continued, his voice breaking as if he truly were ashamed. “I promised to keep you safe. Hell, look at me.” I saw the outline of his hand gesturing towards his face, though couldn’t make out what the hell he was pointing to. “You know, I – I should tell you that we’ll be okay. That we’re safe. That tomorrow, we’ll bury our dead and endure, but I won’t. Because I can’t… Because I am afraid.”

Uneasy gasps of surprise rippled through the townsfolk.

“That’s right,” the Governor sighed. “I’m afraid of terrorists. Terrorists that want what we have – want to destroy us! And worse, because more than one of these terrorists are one of our own!”

Across the arena, Patterson pushed Merle forward with enough force to almost send him sprawling onto the sands. Thankfully, my partner kept his footing, skidding to a halt in the centre of the arena and looking around at the townsfolk that had gathered to watch what was no doubt his execution.

“Merle. A man I counted on. A man I trusted.” The Governor shook his head, the dismay in his voice almost, almost believable. “He led ‘em here! And he let ‘em in!”

Merle opened his mouth to argue but something in the Governor’s gaze must have stopped him.

“It was you,” the Governor hissed down at him. “You lied. You betrayed us all.”

From the side of the arena I couldn’t see, someone else was pushed through the gap between the biters and onto the sands. The newcomer stumbled slightly, barely managing to maintain his balance as he came to a stop in front of Merle.

I couldn’t see their faces, but I could tell by the change of air around them that they recognised one another. They were not strangers.

I bit my lower lip. That did not bode well.

“This is one of the terrorists,” the Governor announced to his audience. “Merle’s own brother.”

Ah. Shit.

“And worse yet,” he continued, his voice growing deeper in his attempt to sound dismayed. “Merle’s influence over my most trusted – our most valuable asset to this community…”

I could see him shaking his head, as if the words he was trying to say hurt him too much to voice. Had I not already been almost ninety-nine percent sure he was about to tell the world it had been me that had helped Merle, I would have laughed. He’d gotten good at this.

Behind me, Martinez whispered, “Sorry ‘bout this, ese. Orders.”

He pushed me forwards, keeping his grip on my upper arm as he led me out into the sands alongside Merle and his brother. When he brought me to a stop, he let my arm go and reached up to pull the bag from my head.

“He poisoned our beloved Synnove’s mind against us. A founding member of our community!” the Governor yelled, and the stands erupted with shock and malice.

My gaze, partially obscured by the blonde strands of hair that had fallen free from my ponytail, snapped to Merle’s. He gave me a pointed look, like he was disappointed I’d let myself get caught.

“Really?” he asked, brow cocked.

“Oh, fuck you,” I snapped in response.

From up in the stands, the Governor continued his speech and I was finally able to get a good look at him. He was dishevelled and battered, as if he’d been in a fight, and across his right eye there was a white bandage, splattered with red. Someone had come for him and I hoped beyond hope that that someone had been Michonne.

“What should we do with them?” the Governor asked his people.

From my right, a distinct cry broke through the torrent of voices. “Kill them!”

I twisted in place to look for the owner, only to see an ocean of familiar faces glaring back at me. Jesus Christ. Were they really this easy to manipulate?

“Kill them! Kill them!”

Apparently so.

The chant continued as the Governor smiled down at us, a chilling grin absent of any and all warmth it had once held. I could barely recognise the man standing there.

“You wanted your brother,” he said to Merle. “Now you got him.”

Merle just looked across to the man he called brother before meeting my curious gaze. With a casual gesture towards the man standing across the arena, he grinned. “Jacques, meet my baby brother, Daryl. Baby brother, meet Jacques.”

I glanced over at the other Dixon, my gaze travelling up and down his dishevelled form. He was shorter than Merle, but not by much, and had dark, unkept hair that partially over his forehead. His ruggedly pleasant features were scrunched into a confused scowl as I took my sweet time surveying him before turning back to Merle with a cheeky grin.

“At least now I know where all the looks went in your family,” I remarked lightly.

Merle snorted and gave me the finger.

“Brother against brother,” the Governor called, promptly ruining the moment. “Partner against partner!”

I looked up at him with my upper lip curled over my teeth in a snarl.

Andrea was standing beside him now, looking up pleadingly at him as if she had expected different. Expected better of him, despite all the warnings to the contrary.

“Winner goes free! Fight to the death!”

It was incredibly unlikely he’d keep that promise.

“Hey now,” I yelled out, over the cheers and jeering voices of the crowd. “I’m sensing a little unfairness here!” I jiggled my chains behind my back and gave the Governor a pointed look. “I’m the only one with chains!”

He merely looked down at me as if I were nothing to him, a fly upon his shoe. “Well, we wouldn’t want the fight over too early, now, would we?”

The voices from the crowd called out my name, called out for me to fight. It was almost as if this were any other Game Night, where I would tag-team with Merle against challengers in this very arena. We had been undefeated since the games had begun. These people knew only a fraction of what I could do and, even then, they had always put their money on me.

I looked over to Merle. His upper lip was shaking the way it often did when he was about to explode in anger.

Somehow, he managed to keep it somewhat under control. He took a step back and began to spin, looking at each member of the crowd in turn as he lifted his arms up like he used to do at the beginning of every Game Night.

“Come on, come on! I can’t hear yous!” he called out to the townsfolk.

A few scattered “Let’s go, Merle!”’s echoed around the warehouse, followed shortly by a “Get em, Jacques!”.

“Come on, ya’ll know me! I’m gonna do whatever I gotta do to prove my loyalty is to this town!” Merle continued.

Stepping further into the centre of the arena, I kept a close eye on both him and Daryl while I prepared myself to leap-frog over the chains loosely tied behind me. I knew Merle was talking shit. Knew him well enough to see that glint in his eye that meant the wheels in this balding head were beginning to turn.

From my right, Merle’s brother scoffed. “You really think this asshole’s gonna let you go?”

Merle looked at him with a smirk. “Just follow my lead, little brother. Ready, Jacques? Just like old times?”

I flashed him a wide grin before I jumped up, swinging my bound hands down and around the base of my feet so they were now in front of me. “Ready when you are, old man.”

Merle looked back to his brother, smirk growing wider as his excitement overtook his sense. “We’re gettin’ out of this right now.”

Merle and I leapt into it first. After all, we’d had plenty of practise fighting against one another in this arena. The chain linking my wrists made it a little difficult, but I managed to pull out some old moves to make it our battle somewhat believable. When I stumbled back, having been “kicked” in the chest by Merle’s dirty boot, I took a brief moment to look behind me towards Martinez. He was holding one of the Biter leads, pushing it closer to me each minute that passed.

I knew he was the weak spot. He wouldn’t shoot me, even if his life depended on it. Not after all we’d been through together. I knew it as well as he did. That was our way out.

While I had been “recovering” from Merle’s kick, the old redneck had started beating on his brother. They tussled on the ground for a moment, looking as if they were actually going at it more than they really needed to. Daryl managed to get his boot between them and kicked Merle off and when he scrambled up onto his feet, I stepped into his guard. He took a swing at me and I ducked beneath it, stepping around him and throwing my hands over his shoulders, pulling the chain taut across his throat, leaving only just enough room for him to breathe.

Merle locked eyes with me over his brother’s shoulder. He gave a little nod.

“Martinez,” I said, quiet enough so only Merle and Daryl could hear. “He’s the weak spot.”

Merle nodded. “Count o’ ten?”

“Better make it three.” I looked to the side of Daryl’s face. “You ready, little Dixon?”

He snorted in response. I took it as a yes.

Merle started a countdown.

One.

Two.

[http-anti]

Two Lives, One Choice

THIS IS IN GLITCH’S POV

This totally fucked up my emotions holy shit...

Die with me @ask-googleirlrp

I’ve never been happy with my life. I’ve never had a real family that loved me, I’ve never had good grades, I’ve never been able to find a career I like. I’ve never liked a girl – or guy for that matter. I’ve never been in love.

I know life isn’t about falling in love or whatever, but I can’t take living like this anymore. It’s all becoming too much. Whatever this depressing lifestyle is, I don’t want to do it anymore.

So, tonight, I’ve decided I’m going to kill myself.

There’s a building I’ve had my eyes on for the past few weeks. It surges so high into the sky, I’m sure the view is breathtaking up there.

It isn’t hard – leaving my house. My dad drinks until he’s blacked out every night. He reeks of alcohol whenever he’s awake. He loves alcohol more than he loves his own family. Tonight is no different when I exit my home; Dad is still in his little corner drinking his life away. I don’t bother to look back once I’ve closed the door.

I’m never going to be leaving my house again after this. I’m never going to pet my dog, Hunter, again. Everything that I’m doing at this moment as I walk towards the building, I’m never going to be able to do ever again.

However, I’m never going to hear the awful noise of Dad chugging down his whiskey. That’s a plus.

Everything seems to be working out. All of the doors of my new favorite building are unlocked, and that includes the door to the rooftop. The metal door creaks open as I push it open, meeting up with the empty rooftop. The railing that is ringed around the rooftop lures me in and when I reach it, I instantly look down.

“Awesome,” I breathe out.

I’m able to see each of the roofs of cars cruising down the street, headlights illuminating their path. I’m calmer than I thought I was going to be. I stare at the cars until my eyes begin to burn. Once it’s time to do what I planned, my fingers creep up to the skinny bar pressing against my waist.

“You can do this. You’ve tried before,” I encourage myself under my breath with developing ragged breaths.

It’s always this part that makes my heart begin to pound. My steady hands grip onto the railing in front of me as I contemplate on how to bring myself over the rail. I can see where my body will land. I can see where the ambulance will be wailing to come and get me. I can see everything in town I would like to see.

But there is one thing I am not expecting to see.

A man – one with green hair – across the building from mine and in the exact position I’m in. His hair flows with the breeze as he looks down at the same street below us.

Is he an angel? Have I died already?

He must feel my eyes on him because within seconds, his eyes connect with mine. That’s how I know I’m not dead yet; the pain in his eyes would definitely not exist in the life after death.

“D-Don’t do it,” I stutter, my voice hoarse. He tilts his head to the side, pointing to his ear. “Don’t do it!” I raise my voice to compete with the noise of honking cars.

“I won’t if you don’t!” He shouts back, his voice echoing in the air to arrive to me.

I hesitate, giving him a look of disbelief. My grasp on the metal railing loosens with my uncertainty.

“Stay over there!” I tell him as I swiftly leave the rooftop, not even waiting for a response.

I leap down each stair four at a time. I ignore the regret bubbling up inside of me while I get farther and farther away from my building. I don’t bother to look both ways as I cross the busy street, I’m nearly sprinting up the stairs to meet the green-haired man I just saw.

I don’t even know who he is. Why am I doing this?

“Hey,” I greet him breathlessly when I reach the top of his building. I can hear my throbbing heartbeat in my ears.

“Hey,” he replies softly.

“I’m Glitch,” I introduce myself, slowly walking to the edge beside him, “you?”

“Anti,” he responds with a small voice.

“Were you going to . . .” I cough awkwardly; I’m unable to finish my sentence.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he gives me a side glance. “You were gonna do it too, right?”

“Yeah,” I nod, letting out a breath.

Some part of me feels that this conversation isn’t going to last very long. I don’t mind too much. If Anti is the last person I talk to, that’s alright with me. We’re silent for almost five minutes. I’m about to ask if he just wants to get it over with and it’ll probably be better if we jumped together, but before I’m able to speak my thoughts, Anti blurts out his.

“Maybe this is a sign.”

“What?” I inquire with bewilderment.

“We were both about to commit suicide at the exact same time,” he states, “Maybe we shouldn’t?”

“Shouldn’t?” I echo, feeling as though he’s speaking nonsense, “You really think so?”

He nods. “What do ya think?”

“Maybe it is a sign,” I uneasily agree with him, “it just might be.” A small smile peeks out of him as he pulls away from the railing, twirling across the rooftop. “Are you a dancer?” I ask.

“Only when I’m alone,” he answers.

“You’re with me, though,” I remark.

“This is the only exception,” he defends with his spinning coming to a stop. A chuckle crawls up my throat but I swallow it back. “So, what’s your story?” he asks after he’s finished waltzing around.

“It’s long,” I warn, “what about you?”

“I got time,” he assures, “I’ll tell ya mine if ya tell me yers.”

I can’t say no to those twinkling blue eyes of his. So, before I realize it, I’m telling Anti – the guy I just met ten minutes ago – about my entire life and how my unhappiness has brought me up here. We sit on the floor with our backs pressing into the metal rails.

The look in his eyes lets me know that he’s completely focused on me. I can’t remember the last time someone actually looked at me the way he does. Once I’m finished, it’s Anti’s turn. I make sure to hang off every word he says. Not because he did it to me, but because his voice is . . . Nice.

I listen intently, feeling frustrated and conflicted as his story goes on. Although I don’t think anything of him now, with his story, I can’t help but look at him with admiration. Anti doesn’t deserve to die. He doesn’t deserve anything his life has done to him. Yet as I think these innocent thoughts, every single day, I hope that I won’t wake up when I fall asleep.

Anti lets out a sigh when he’s finished, his hair swaying along with the wind again.

“Weird,” I reply plainly.

“What?” he asks, releasing his hold on the vertical bars of the railing that he had been squeezing since he began speaking.

“Neither of us are happy and we’re both just pushed away by our attempts to make things work,” I muse aloud.

“Small world, isn’t it?” He replies.

“Yeah,” I scoff. Catching a glimpse of the time on my phone, my eyes widen. “We should head back home, it’s late.”

“Okay,” he reluctantly accepts. I push myself up to stand and extend my hand down to him. Anti slips his hand into mine and allows me to pull him up. “Can I have yer number?” he bluntly requests.

I raise a brow, a sarcastic remark somewhere inside of me but I’m simply too exhausted for it all. We exchange numbers and he stares at his screen with my name on it.

“Can I call ya when I need help?” he questions softly. “Fer, y’know, when times get really tough . . .”

“Anytime,” I respond.

“Thanks. ‘N you can too, just so ya know,” he gives me a smile.

I pause, studying his smile. It’s a smile that I never want to see vanish, but it does much faster than I would have liked. I walk to the door of the rooftop and open it for Anti.

“Here,” I beckon him to come down the stairs with me.

His eyes flicker with something that leaves as quickly as it appears, like the amount of time it takes for someone to realize a body has fallen off a building.

We walk side by side, taking one step at a time.

“This is a little weird,” he admits.

“It’s a sign,” I repeat his words.

We’re back on the ground now and I can’t stop myself from being upset. But with Anti next to me, I’m not as upset as I would have been if I was alone. You win some, you lose some.

“I live that way,” Anti points the opposite direction of my house. “When can I see ya again?”

The question causes me to hesitate once again. I can’t believe how much Anti has made me hesitate in the last three hours.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” I reply eventually.

“Okay,” his voice is eager.

“Nice meeting you, Anti,” I state as my goodbye.

“You too, Glitch,” he responds.

We turn away from each other and stride back to our homes. While I’m heading back, I feel an emotion that hasn’t been inside of me for ages. Why am I feeling this way? Because of Anti?

“Impossible,” I mutter.

I sigh when I’m back at my house. I’m able to smell Dad’s stench from the front porch. Dad appears to be waiting for me while I open the door, though he’s probably in the middle of leaving to buy more whiskey.

“Where were you? Trying to kill yourself again?” He inquires harshly.

I don’t bother to answer as I step inside. It’s pathetic how fast it is for the aura of darkness to surround me again. I’m back to being the Glitch I was before I met Anti; I regret running away from committing suicide again.

“You’re the reason my wife died,” Dad slurs to me. I can’t remember the last time his voice didn’t have a slur to it. “You’re just gonna ignore me!?” He spits out angrily as I continue to walk through the house.

“Goodnight, Dad,” I say shortly.

I shuffle to my room, swinging open the door and clicking it shut behind me. I fall into my bed face first, my dog Hunter sleeping at the foot of my bed.

“Third time,” I mumble into my pillow.

Isn’t the third time always a charm? Why am I still alive? Why is my heart still beating like its brand new?

My phone buzzes in my pocket. Though I have no idea why, my hands tremble as I check the text message.

“Help” his text displays on the screen.

“Can I call you?” I tap the letters slowly. Texting is a foreign feeling to me. Sometimes I ask myself why I have a phone in the first place. But right now, I’m glad I have one.

“Please.” He replies almost instantly.

I shift my phone up to my ear as I listen to the ring. It rings once and it’s halfway through the second ring when he answers.

“My dad didn’t even notice I was gone,” he reveals. Anti’s voice is almost a whispering one, as if he doesn’t want to get caught talking on the phone. “Can we talk until one of us falls asleep?” he submits another request.

“Sure,” I accept without hesitation.

It’s been three hours now since we were both staring down at the ground, planning to kill ourselves. I can’t believe that all of this is happening.

“What school do you go to?” I question to make conversation.

“Dinsmore Prep. What ‘bout you?”

“John Philips.”

“Is it nice there?”

“Hardly,” I answer with mild shame in my school. “What about you? Is it nice at your prestigious school?”

“Y-Ya know?” he stammers nervously, “well this is fuckin’ embarrasin’.”

“I can see you going there,” I shrug, being able to see the building in the back of my mind.

“It’s stressful,” he sighs into the phone, “I have to get the best grades to go there. If I get kicked out, my dad’ll kill me.”

There’s a silence between us. Kill seems like such a foreign word right now.

“Do you think if I wasn’t up on the rooftop today, ya would’ve killed yerself?” he asks randomly.

“Of course,” I respond truthfully, “but I’m not dead because it’s a—“

“Sign,” we finish together.

“Maybe this is our inner selves using all its strength to stay alive,” I blurt out – ironic since it hasn’t attempted to fight until now.

“Inner selves?” he ponders into the phone. “Y’know, Glitch, yer interestin’.”

“You’re the first one to say that,” I state incredulously.

“Really?” he inquires.

“Yeah,” I nod, despite him not being able to see me.

“Well, ye are,” he repeats with a voice sounding sweet on the other end – like candy.

“You are, too,” I retort, “I’ve never met someone with such nice hair before.”

“Go look in the mirror, Glitch,” he snorts.

“Why should I?” I twist around in my bed to get more comfortable.

“Yer hair is nicer than mine,” he remarks, “even in the night, I could tell. ‘N it’s probably a lot easier to manage without the dye.”

“Lets compare our hair during the day tomorrow,” I suggest in hopes that we will actually meet tomorrow.

“Deal,” he accepts the offer in a heartbeat.

“Alright,” I feel the corner of my lips pull up in a small smile.

“Are we gonna meet after school?”

“Lets skip school,” I reply.

“No way. I could never to that,” he refuses, his voice hinting that he’s shaking his head, “my dad ‘n I leave the house at the same time.”

“Then pretend you’re going to school,” I plan everything out as I speak, “we can meet somewhere in town and go to—“

“I’ll do it,” he interrupts me.

“Really?” I ask with large eyes.

“Might as well do some rebellious stuff in my life,” he responds, “’M willin’ to do anythin�� with you.”

“You’re safe with me,” I guarantee before I realize what I’m saying.

“What are ya, a superhero?” he giggles.

“Be quiet,” I mumble, feeling hot out of nowhere. I hastily take my shirt off and fling it somewhere away from me.

“I look forward to seein’ ya again,” he whispers.

“Me too,” I yawn.

“’M tired too,” he returns the yawn. “I’ll see ya in the mornin’.”

“I’ll be waiting,” I tell him with a voice I have no idea is inside of me.

“’Night, Glitch.”

“Goodnight, Anti,” I mutter, hearing him disconnect the call as soon as I’m finished.

I view my phone with a dumbfounded expression. Is Anti going to be alright? What if he calls me while I’m asleep and I don’t hear the phone?

Because of these thoughts, I’m unable to sleep. When I close my eyes, all I see is Anti, Anti, and more Anti. It’s somewhat relieving that if it wasn’t for me, Anti’s dazzling smile would be gone. Perhaps what Anti said to me is true – it was fate for us to meet tonight.

Is it fate for us to kill ourselves in the end, too?

***

I’m at our meeting spot earlier than I said I was going to be. The bright morning sun is gradually making its way higher into the sky. With each minute that ticks by, I’m convinced Anti isn’t going to come. Our plan probably failed; I’m not surprised.

“Glitch!” A shrill voice calls out to me when I’m officially convinced. I spin around to the voice to find Avery waving at me.

“Good morning,” I greet him, feeling as though I’m seeing him in a completely different way now – it’s certainly not a bad thing.

“I feel so rebellious right now,” he laughs lightly, “I decided to change ‘cause my school uniform sucks ass.”

“Uniform,” I snort, “your school really must be nice.”

“It’s not,” he reassures, stepping closer to me, “Where’re we goin’ today?”

“Do you like space?” I ask.

“Space?” he echoes. “Like, astronomy?” I nod, shoving my hands in my pockets and leading him down the street. “The streets are so empty when we’re supposed to be in school,” he observes as he takes a brief glance around us.

“You know what that means,” I reply, looking at him with amusement.

“What?” he questions.

“The planetarium will be empty, too.”

“There’s a planetarium here!?” he exclaims, “Since when!?” The chuckle that I swallowed back last night forces its way outside of me. “So ya can laugh,” a smile dances across his lips.

“Of course I can,” I frown, “Why wouldn’t I?”

“You’ve been lookin’ serious since we told each other our stories last night,” he somewhat scolds, “Why don’t ya show some emotion?”

“But I would just be pretending,” I mumble.

“It’s not that bad,” he mumbles with me, “Ya get used to it.”

I peek at him through my peripheral vision, being able to see him smiling down at the ground.

“Right,” I speak under my breath.

As we stroll to the planetarium, Anti is the one that does the talking. I’m not used to speaking so much, and he seems to notice. Thankfully, he knows exactly what to do.

“Sweet or sour?” he asks.

“Sweet,” I answer, “Sour is too . . .”

“Sour?” he finishes for me.

“Yeah,” I don’t have a choice but to accept how ridiculous it all sounds. “What about you?” I inquire, “Sweet or sour?”

“Sour,” he responds with a glint in his eye. “Sweet is too sweet.”

“Go get new taste buds,” I shake my head, earning a soft giggle from him.

I’m too distracted by Anti’s questions that I’m sure we’ve circled around the planetarium at least ten times. When we finally go inside, the planetarium is as empty as I thought it was going to be.

“The next show is in thirty minutes,” the receptionist informs.

“Thanks,” Anti and I say together and walk off to a bench to pass time.

We resume our little game that only exists for the sole purpose of getting to know each other. After the thirty minutes, I find myself feeling disappointed that I can’t learn more about Anti.

“There’s only twenty people here,” Anti notes while we step inside the dome-shaped room.

“Is that bad?” I search for the best seat for us. I’m lucky enough to know that the middle seats in the middle row are the best in the entire room.

“Not at all,” he replies, plopping into his seat beside mine.

Though there are only twenty people in the room, the show is the same one they’d give if the room was entirely filled. When a new constellation is revealed on the large curved screen above us, I’m able to hear Anti’s hushed, surprised gasps. I can’t help but steal a glance at him a few times through the show. It’s strange that although the stars above us are merely being projected into a wall, the reflection off Anti’s eyes is stunning.

“I wanna go back!” Anti declares after the show.

I open the door for him to leave the planetarium, forgetting that it’s still morning.

“We can go tomorrow after school,” I propose.

“No,” he opposes with a shake of his head, “I wanna go when there’s nobody there again.”

This is surely his silent way of telling me we should skip school again.

“Well, alright,” I give in, “let’s go do something else now.”

I begin to bring Anti to stores he’s never been to before, and I’m caught off guard when he brings me to stores I’ve never been to. We’re together from morning to late afternoon. Once the sunset arrives, Anti breaks the news, modestly holding his hands behind his back.

“I gotta now. If I’m not home soon, Dad will get suspicious.”

“Why didn’t you say something earlier?” I raise a brow.

“’Cause bein’ with ya is fun,” he averts his gaze to hide his rosy cheeks.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” I smirk.

“Ya really like to smirk a lot, don’t ya?” he stifles a laugh, taking a few steps away. “See ya tomorrow!”

He waves goodbye and I return his waves. There’s a sensation in my chest I’m not familiar with. It’s the same feeling I received after Anti and I separated last night.

“That was fun,” I admit.

And I can tell Anti thought it was, too.

***

There is never an agreement to skip school every day and meet at our designated spot. It just happens. Anti and I spend at least eight hours together, going across town. But before we do that, we go to the planetarium to start off our morning. It’s the same show each and every time, yet Anti continues to gasp at the shimmering constellations.

We’ve gotten closer than I would have ever expected us to; I tell Anti things I’ve never told anyone before. Anti always whispers when he tells me something he has never told anyone before either.

This friendship we share is something I never want to lose. I want to cherish it as much as I can.

Although, this friendship feels a little different than all the other ones I’ve had. Every second that I’m with Anti, my heart beats faster than normal. I can’t tell if it’s because of him, or my wishes of dying by illness rather than suicide are coming true.

There’s something I notice on Anti; however, I don’t mention it. There’s always a new mark on his arms when we meet. I want to talk to him about it, but he immediately covers it up with his sleeve when I accidentally see it.

The smiles he gives me don’t allow me to bring it up.

After being with Anti for four weeks – mostly skipping school every morning, but we force ourselves to go sometimes – it seems a bit unbelievable that I ever wanted to leave this world.

A world with Anti is all I want. I never want to leave. I don’t want to let go of him.

“Nobody’s forcin’ ya to,” Anti tells me once I’ve accidentally blurted out my thoughts.

“How about you?” I lean against my hand on the table we’re at, paying attention to him more than my meal.

“I feel exactly the same way as you,” he confesses coyly.

And again, I have to force myself from not reaching over the table and brushing my thumb across his pink cheeks.

We exit the restaurant half an hour later, giving each other a small smile before separating ways. It’s become a habit to watch him walk away from me, just until he turns the corner of the street. Just by his steps, I can tell he’s happy.

Weirdly enough, I’m happy, too. Just Anti’s presence is sufficient. For the first time since I was a child, I am genuinely happy. Because of him – everything is because of him.

I silently observe Anti while we’re together, mentally keeping track of how many times he has admitted he’s doing things he hasn’t done before. It’s inspiring.

And the marks on his arms fading away after a few weeks make me feel like I’m on top of the world.

Anti seems to be transforming into a happier person every day. It makes me wonder. Perhaps he’s starting off his new life with us being together, by having a clean slate. A new chapter with no depression, no suicidal thoughts, no darkness.

It only makes me want to have a clean slate as well.

But there’s just one thing I want to add. Something that requires lots of training to say.

“I’m in love with you, Anti,” I practice saying aloud, pretending that Hunter is Anti, “Do you think I can tell her, Hunter?”

Hunter’s short bark is the only answer I receive with each question I ask him.

“I’m going to do it,” I proclaim firmly, “I’m going to confess to Anti tomorrow.”

Hunter’s final bark is enough for me.

Anti has taught me to tell him everything on my mind, regardless of what it is. The once comforting offer backfires immensely tonight.

“Yer hidin’ somethin’, aren’t ya?” he asks me skeptically through the phone.

“I’m not,” I insist.

“Ya better not be,” he attempts to be menacing, but it doesn’t work in the slightest.

Like always, time flies while we speak to each other on the phone.

“’Night, Glitchy,” he whispers after we’ve hit the three hour mark.

“Goodnight, Anti,” I reply gently, listening to him disconnect the call.

I’m too restless to sleep as I think of all the possible ways to tell Anti I love him. There are so many scenarios playing inside my head, I don’t realize it’s morning when I’ve run out of scenarios.

“Already?” I peer out the window to find a light gray sky.

Falling back into bed, I close my eyes to get as much sleep as I can before my alarm goes off. Yet as soon as I feel myself dozing off, there’s a pang in my chest. My eyes shoot open as my breath is lodged into my throat. I clutch onto the bedsheet, unable to do anything else but endure the sharp pain stabbing at me.

I’m going to die.

My heart is hammering against my chest with an uneven rhythm. I can’t breathe. Even though the pain ends eventually, my body feels paralyzed with fear. I squeeze the bedsheet a few times to make sure I can still move.

“What the hell was that?” I mutter, ignoring the beads of sweat on my forehead.

I feel the impulse to text Anti to check it he’s alright, but I dismiss the thought. He’s probably asleep. Pushing whatever that was away, I go back to falling asleep. Once I’ve opened my eyes again, the morning sun is out, sneaking its rays into my room.

“Morning,” I scratch Hunter behind the ears, heaving myself off my bed, “Today is a big day.”

I’m more flustered than usual, although I don’t plan on confessing to Anti until later during the day. I also don’t plan on telling him about the abrupt pain in my chest, it would only scare him.

Bumping into just a few more things, I sigh with a slight smile as I leave my house.

The things Anti does to me.

These four weeks have surely been the best weeks of my life. It’s hard to believe that I’ll be able to have the rest of my life like this. It’s very hard to believe.

Keen to see Anti, I arrive at our spot and patiently wait for him. I try not to pace around too much. Although he’s only five minutes late, I begin to dial his number and call him. All I want to do is hear his voice.

“This is weird,” I frown when he doesn’t pick up. I dial his number again, forbidding myself to overthink the situation.

Anti doesn’t answer the five calls. It isn’t until the ringing of the call is replaced by sirens when my breath comes to a halt.

No way.

Without a second thought, I sprint to the sirens that I’m positive are coming from an ambulance. I would sprint forever to find where the ambulance is going, if that’s what it takes. I’m able to find the ambulance quite easily, but I wish I hadn’t when I follow it down a street I haven’t been on for several weeks.

It screeches to a stop in front of a building. The building I chose four weeks ago. There’s already a crowd surrounding the front of the building. I have no choice but to push past everyone to confirm that my erratic thoughts are just thoughts and nothing else. The paramedics are already wrapping up the body once I reach the front of the crowd.

“They say he’s been dead for over an hour already,” a voice murmurs behind me.

“He was only a teen, wasn’t he? What a shame,” someone adds.

It’s not him. That dead body isn’t Anti’s.

Not taking my eyes off the black bag covering the body, I shakily bring my phone up to my ear and listen to the ringing. My entire body becomes numb when an incredibly familiar ringtone goes off beside the body. I stare at Anti’s phone with my name lighting up on the shattered screen.

A paramedic takes a look at her phone, reaching for it to decline my call. As I see him press the button and the call go to his voicemail, my mind goes blank.

“Sir, you are not allowed to take a step closer,” a paramedic comes towards me, but I don’t pay attention to him.

“Anti,” I croak, trying to push past the paramedic.

“Sir, you cannot come closer,” he commands again, stricter than before.

With the paramedic’s arm blocking me, I fall to my knees, helplessly watching the other paramedics lift Anti’s body and place it inside the back of the ambulance.

“Anti,” I repeat with a cracked voice, “You said you were happy. Were you lying to me? Was it all a lie? Everything you said?”

I can’t comprehend anything since there’s no response. I don’t know what to do anymore.

The ambulance revs away from the scene with the crowd scattering away. I stay on the ground – staring at the spot Anti’s body once was.

“You left me here alone,” I whisper at the spot, “Why? You know, I was going to tell you something important today.”

I don’t care about how long I’ve been sitting on the ground. I don’t care about the looks I get.

What I do care about is Anti.

It might have been a sign to not kill ourselves that night four weeks ago, but it was always fate for Anti to kill himself today.

I exist because of Anti. And now, he is gone.

***

I don’t hear one word about Anti’s funeral.

It would make sense for me to look it up and find the details, yet I can’t bring myself to. I don’t want to see strangers cry for him. I don’t want to see his gravestone. I don’t want to see his parents. I don’t want to see any of it.

And nobody is forcing me to.

It hurts just to wake up.

I lock myself inside my room for three days; Anti is the only person on my mind. My feelings for him remain settled in my chest the whole time.

If this is love, I don’t want it.

It isn’t until the third morning when I decide to go outside for a while. My muscles are stiff from staying inside all day. I don’t notice I’m going to the planetarium until I’ve read a sign announcing a new showing. Not only does it include the original show, but it contains more constellations and effects.

Anti isn’t going to get the chance to see this.

Anti is never going to have the chance to live again. He is never going to have the chance to visit all the places he wanted.

We are never going to have the chance to hold hands or kiss.

I am never going to have the chance to tell him I love him.

We could have started a new chapter with our lives; Anti did nothing but end the book. The chapter I thought he was creating was the chapter he was ending.

I stick around the planetarium, reluctantly watching the new constellation show since it’s only during the evening. I’m uncomfortable being surrounded by so many people at once, but I’m glad I’m able to sit in my favorite spot in the room.

I gape at how everything looks above us, however, it’s not the same without Avery.

There’s no arm bumping against mine on the armrest. There’s no sound of a soft gasp beside me. There’s no tug on my sleeve when the stars expose themselves on the screen.

I hate the planetarium.

I leave in the middle of the show, not paying attention to the annoyed groans I receive when I’m in someone’s way.

The sky is darkening from dark blue to black as I go to the only building calling my name with Anti’s voice.

I don’t have control over my legs.

Like a month ago, everything is working out again. All of the doors are unlocked and that goes for the door to the rooftop, also. I can vividly remember how frantic I was to save the guy I saw on the opposite building of mine.

My biggest fear was that by the time I reached the rooftop, that guy wouldn’t be there anymore.

“I’m glad you were still there,” I say to the vacant rooftop, my shoes clicking against the floor. The railing doesn’t fail to draw me in again.

I grip the railing until my knuckles turn a ghostly white. I take steady breaths with closed eyes, taking in all the noises I can. The sound of paper fluttering with the gentle wind snatches my attention. With a curious expression, I follow the sound to find a small sheet of paper taped on one of the rails. As carefully as I can, I pluck the paper off the rail and read the elegant handwriting.

I blink several times at the handwriting – the words aren’t making sense.

“I live in the tiny spaces between your heartbeats.”

I lift my head up at the sky blanketed with real stars and not the fake ones from the planetarium. If Avery lives in the tiny spaces between my heartbeats, that must mean she’s living somewhere else. Right?

She’s alive somewhere up there.

The thought is enough for my body to move on its own; I return to the position from that night. I squeeze the railing and begin to pull myself over it. I don’t look up to see if there’s another person across the building from mine again.

“It’s okay,” I tell myself, my forearms starting to quiver. “Everything is okay. Right, Anti?”

Once I’m over the rail, I lean back into it as much as I can. The edge of my heels is what keeps me from falling over to the ground. I’m met with the familiar sight of where my body will land, where the ambulance will come to get me, and everything in town.

I take one last look at the sky. I want the stars to be the last thing I see.

Will I be able to tell you that I love you soon? Can we look at the stars together again someday?

“Anti,” I breathe out. “Let’s fall in love as soon as we meet again.”

I take a final deep breath, readying my hands on the rail. I do the only thing that’s left for me to meet Anti again.

Let go.

[deut31v6]

170527

It's amazing how easy it is to slip into temptation. Moments ago, it seemed like a decent day spent relatively simple. Moments before starting writing this, I decided to eat a handful of chocolate chips and before I know it, I can't stop grazing sweets. Sigh. This writing is a desperate attempt to turn to God and relieve whatever this urge I have in me. I'm a bit desperate to pose weight. But perhaps a greater reason is because I do want to sacrifice the capacity to love God and love others. I feel if I slip into my urges, I will sink into Oblivion and relinquish my tasks for tomorrow. Today is a rest day really only if I'm able to go back to work on my other 6 days. Or else perhaps it's not much of a Sabbath. I just finished watching silence by Martin Scorsese. It's about two Jesuits travelling to Japan as missionaries during the Japanese Christian persecution. I felt alot of anxieties watching this movie. I think a critic said it best. "This is not the sort of film you 'like' or 'don't like.' It's a film that you experience and then live with." After the movie, I had an overwhelming desire to learn if Scorsese is a Christian. Then I proceeded to learn what the original source was from. Somehow, I doubted the directors intention and I couldn't tell if this is a movie that is in lines with God or a tool of the enemy. There is such a blurring of obligation and tenents that in the end, it really gives frustratingly little answers. Instead, in this lukewarm confusion that the movie ends with, I also feel a bit dishevelled spiritually. I remember when I downloaded the movie last week, I was unable to start the movie. This is probably because I felt like I was in a bad place to watch such a spiritually taxing movie. My lifestyle and my faith were in lines so I felt guilty for watching the suffering of past Christian's under my condition. Today however, I felt a bit in a different condition. I woke up today and took a unplanned run. It was good as it reinforces my need for a healthier body. Afterwards, by God's grace I spent 30 mins of devotion like I said I was interested in doing in my last post. I then held on to the decision to not play any pc games on my computer or watch any YouTube. What I did allow was watching movies whether on my tablet or my laptop. The other was app games on my tablet. One thing I particularly prayed for was for the capacity to love. I wanted to love but I guess I now also want the capacity to love in ways I otherwise cannot spur up. Now, I really want this capacity, but God be praised, I pray He will guide me in the right way. I watched a bit of rogue one this morning and then skimmed through a Gundam anime ov a bit. In addition, scooted down to the nearby village to mail something at the post office then scooted 40 mins the other way to fill up the scooter. The second journey was a bit capricious but it was nice. At moments I thanked God for such a nice ride. The weather was nice and I didn't feel pressured. I know I'm not good rider but I feel a little less scared of traveling with the scooter. I went on a main road I hadn't before. I realize the scooter can barely keep the 60 mile speed. It's hard to travel on a faster road. In the mid afternoon, went to supermarket with some housing mates. We did a quick in and out trip. Here I bought ingredients for making some baked goods for the peers. I haven't done this in a long time and I want to do something nice. I feel I've done little for the benefit for others. Since I'm not going nuts with school work, I feel I've been less giving and more taking. I guess this is some attempt to tip that scale, even if a bit. The unfortunate thing is that now I have something in the flat that I can binge on. Perhaps I can only turn it over to him. I really don't want to do the wrong thing. I definitely want this to be used for good and his glory. I get so tired while doing these entries. Some students from London are visiting a housing mates and I was invited to join them for beer. I kindly declined as I was in the middle of watching silence. I felt a spiritual obligation to watch this movie. I don't regret not going to the pub but I feel bad for tis friend who doesn't seem to get the companionship he might want here in this rural part of UK. Sigh. So about the movie. I was watching and I can only sense how important it is to never give up your faith. "But whosoever shall deny me before men, him will I also deny before my Father which is in heaven." Matthew 10:33. So the Jesuit priest in the end steps on the Jesus portrait to save the lives of tortured believers. He was whispered by an apostate that these prisoners were only being tortured because of the priests pride. I don't know. And then the movie continued by expressing Christ as allowing the slander to take place in the form of a voice. I'm not sure what is exactly going on but the movie ends as though the priest still holds to his faith. I, at the comfort of the couch in my flat, only could just yearn that he would continue to refuse to deny his faith throughout the movie. However, the priest apostasizes. I feel emptiness and sadness. I guess it's a movie about those who ended up in the strange position they hold in their later life. However, I felt bad for the Christian's who faithfully held on to God and continued to defend their faith, even to death. So many Christian's are recorded to have suffered. It's such a sad thing. However, God knows. I kept telling myself how I would've done differently if I was there. I tell myself that because of my closeness with self harm, dieing for Christ doesn't seem so fearful to me as it was portrayed in the movie. However, perhaps it's the confusion whether this is what God really wanted of them. I mean, if I were to travel to Saudi Arabia and start to evanglize, how clearly would I think I'm doing God's work. Perhaps, in those death defining moments, unless you know clearly this is what God wants you to do, it seems especially hard to persevere. I also thought of my ability in this situation in the comfort of my flat with all the world provisions I have in comparison. I admit I felt a bit ashamed when I watched this film. I have so much and yet I still complain about my spiritual health where in Japan at the time, it's just suffocating pain and difficulty. I complain about resisting temptations to be able to read the Bible in the !orning whereas the people in Japan were struggling with what faith they had and in fear of the Inquisition. It makes me think what's my program really about. Why am I here? How can what I'm doing and my tribulations compare to the tribulations of Christian's of that setting. It's funny how when given extreme freedom of worship, it's really easy to feel lethargic to worship. Whereas, if you're oppressed and feel not allowed, how much more savorabl it is to proclaim ones faith. If I proclaim my faith here, no one cares. Japan at that time, if anyone found out you're a believer, you might be killed. However, to be killed is also honorable and therefore willingness as a choice is heightened. I'm tempted to also give up anime as one of those basic things to just unplug from. Now it's getting to avoiding Facebook, news, YouTube and pcgames. If I throw anime into this, it would help. I find it's really easy to slip into temptations with anime involved. Particularly because I associate anime with gukty pleasure from my childhood. In addition, the content quality on average is less than films or etc. Tablet games are fine because I seem to get bored of them quickly. There was a thunderstorm last night which woke me up. I first noticed it was raining cats and dogs. Then, with my eyes closed, I saw a great flash through my eyelids. Then there was a mighty thunder and the ground shook. All of a sudden the rain stopped. I suddenly felt a fear of God and imaginations of God's involvement in this storm. I felt quite fearful of God's power. I had a decent conversation with the counter person at the supermarket. One thing I noticed was that even my off days don't seem as crippling as before. I wonder if this is because of the anti-depressant. All of a sudden, I can make connections on my off days even though I'm not influenced by Adderall. So strange. However, I noticed I feel more uncomfortable and agitated on my on days! I don't know but I pray to God for discernment. Tomorrow, the thought is to scoot down to the coast and then work with a teammate on the project. I guess either this or just staying at my flat and work. I don't know I pray to give up my fears over this project and just seek God. I really want to go to church tomorrow. It's weird when I want to commit 100% to God, I get fear of architecture. It's as if falling for God guarantees that the project will fail. It feels it's like one or the other. Mind you, this is my understanding if 100% commitment. However, I feel as though I've been waddling in between without committing to either. At the moment it really does feel like one or the other. I guess my answer to this is really to choose God and sacrifice what I imagine to be architecture. Perhaps another detterant. Is failing my peers and tutors. Somehow it's relinquishing my care and fellowship with them. In a way, I guess it could be similar to the Jesuit priest unwillingness to give up the suffering of hidden Christian for his own beliefs. This priest really could choose only one or the other, Christian or not. Whereas, for me, I feel I can wallow in neither while saying both. I realize I need to pray about this for help to come to what I think is the truth which is 100% God. I forgot to mention perhaps yesterday about helping a prior students selling of his scooter. I was a correspondent and just helped exchanging papers and receiving the money. However, one of the people who came to check the bike on behalf of his grandson, tried really hard to haggle £20 off of the price. I was obstinate and didn't budge primarily because this wasn't my bike but another students. The other reason was because this student has toiled so hard to try to get the proper compensation for this bike. I'm glad I could help. I felt a bit disheartened when I felt I won't get recognized for what I felt a charitable act of help on my part of this whole thing. Most of my peers were unaware for my absence for an hour and didn't ask. However, I didn't do it for recognition but to try to emulate God's command to love others or to treat as I would want to be treated. Therefore, God saw it and that's enough.