Darkness. Nothing left but darkness. Surrounded. The only light came from the fire burning behind me. My memories going up in smoke. I was sitting in a position similar to the girl I had saved before on The Line. I was in her place again. With a tear in my eye I realized I had always been in her position.

He had been like the moon, shining in my darkness. The beautiful moon giving light in the darkness. Hope to the broken. Direction to the lost. Love to the hated. But there's no more moon. Now there's only darkness.

I sit with my legs crossed, hands in my lap. My right hand strokes the faint scars on the back of my left wrist from the girl from The Line. They're hard to see even if you know they're there. The ones from a week ago are more visible. They match hers.

My eyes follow the path of those long, thin fingers as they make their way over the past. They're tired eyes. They're red from crying. They're almost dead. There's no light in them, not anymore. Blank eyes, and a blank expression.

My long brown hair now reaches half way down my back, almost covering my music tattoo, but not nearly enough to cover all of the acne. I try not to cry as I remember the moonlight, but the tears come. The memories come in flashes. I remember when I crossed back.

I was holding his hand. We were looking back over The Line. Back at the shy boy and girl smiling at each other from across a classroom. Back at their first kiss. Back at days spent laughing and playing games and holding each other close. I was smiling, and crying. Those things he had said. I didn't want to believe. He was still holding my hand though. Then he turned me to face him. He smiled a sad sort of a smile, kissed me, and whispered softly in my ear, "I love you".

Then he pushed me.

I hit the ground hard, and for a while I blacked out. When I woke up, I was back on the other side of The Line. And he was gone.

And here I've been for seven months. I've had visitors, but no one stays. I've either sent them away, or they've ran. Here I have stayed. Here I have cried. Here on the wrong side of The Line.

Suddenly, from the midst of my silence, I hear footsteps. I look up and standing before me is a girl. She stands tall, with a straight back. Her long brown hair is done back in a braid and her eyes are red from crying. They're dead eyes. Tired eyes. But there's something else there, anger. Defiance.

"Get up." she snaps. I just look at her.

"Get. Up." more forcefully, as she clenches her fists. The words are almost a growl.

I sigh, and close my eyes. I wait for a moment and then look at her with some defiance of my own.

"Why?"

"You know why. Enough is enough. It's time to let go." Her voice has softened a little, but she's still angry. I can tell.

"That's harder than you might think." I pause, "It's more than just the moon." She sighs, and kneels down to be at eye level with me.

"I know. I know it's hard. I know that you think you're worthless. I know that you hate yourself. I know that you feel them judging you every time you speak, or do something, or just for the way you look. I know you can't sleep at night. I know you cry all the time. I know you feel selfish. But I also know that you want this to stop. I know that you hate the moon. I know you want to be with your friends. I know you want them to know." She looks at the ground and take a moment to collect her thoughts.

"I know that I can't fix this. I know that no one can. You've been getting up everyday, putting on a smile, and crying yourself to sleep. You're tired of doing it. But sitting here, forcing yourself to think about it, to think about the moon, about crossing back, isn't going to make any of that better."

She stands then, and holds out her hand to me.

"You were dragged." A tear runs down her face.

"You were pushed." She smiles at me, and I stand to view her at eye level.

I sigh, and I take one last look at the fire behind me. Before I go, I take the necklace from around my neck. I've had it since my fifteenth birthday. I make a choice. I throw it into the fire. I turn back to face the girl still standing in front of me.

I smile at her, close my eyes, and step over The Line. I open my eyes, and she's gone. My long hair is pulled back in a braid, and the scars on my wrist are almost invisible. I look up, and I see that the stars have come out. There's no moon, not yet. But I am surrounded by bright shining stars. I look forward and I can see many of the familiar places I used to go before I was forced to the wrong side of The Line.

I sigh with a smile on my face, and as I walk away from The Line I whisper,

"I went willingly."