Covered in swollen purple and grey lines, I lay on the cold floor, arms at my sides. Can't move them now.

Staring up at the ceiling, moonlight illuminates above me.

Still numb. I pull myself up anyway, thoughts racing. I listen to the sound of my tears falling before even having the chance to roll down my cheeks.

They fall in slow motion.

Bouncing off floor panels and scattering as far as my dreams.

I can't mute the voices, the echoes that steal my sleep. I try to break free from this straitjacket I've gotten myself into.

But just when the blood pools up over the sheer metal, I picture your face.

Remembering your name, your voice, my shaking hands drop the open scissors and dust floats.

You have to see her again.

Don't do this now.

You don’t even know you're saving my life. Every moment of it.