Fear of Falling

“And who are you to tell me what I’m going to do with her?”
    Angel stepped between us, lightly pushing against both our chests. “Guys, cut it out. This isn’t the time.”
    “You’re done with her,” Dom replied, moving Angel aside. “Do you hear me? Done. Leave her alone.”
    “Fuck that! I’m not done until she says we are.” I looked to Kami again. Her head was down, yet angled towards us. I advanced towards her again before Dom blocked my way with his arm. I shoved him back, bringing up my fists in preparation. Dom did the same.
    “Stop!” Kami’s small, shaky voice called out below us, drawing both our attention. I kneeled before her, my anger towards Dom temporarily forgotten.
    “Baby, are you ok?” I asked, grasping her hands gently.
    Her slightly blue lips trembled as her bloodshot eyes searched my face. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but sighed in resignation as she looked away.
    “For now,” she whispered.
    No. Hell no. I wasn’t going to let her lie to me. Not this time. I needed to make this better for her. For both of us.
    “Kami, talk to me,” I urged. “Let me know what I need to do.”
    She shook her head and brought her gaze back to me, her eyes rimmed with fresh tears. And with pain etched in every inch of her beautiful face, her body quaking uncontrollably, she cracked a sad smile. “There’s nothing you can do. Just let me go.”
    “No,” I all but growled. “You don’t mean that. Talk to me.”
    “Blaine, she said…”
    I gave Dom a murderous scowl before he could even get the words out. This was between Kami and I, and I’d be damned if I let her friends scare me away.
    Her quivering hand gave mine a small squeeze, and I turned back to her, my expression softening at the sight of her solemn face. “I wish I could.”
    “Then do it. You trust me, right?”
    Kami’s big green eyes fell to our clasped hands, and she nodded faintly. “Just…give me time. I’ll call you, ok?”
    I didn’t argue. Kami was giving me a chance, even if it was a half-hearted one, and I’d be a fool not to take it.
    Slowly, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to her forehead. I knew it very well could have been the last time I ever felt her skin against mine, and that thought ripped me to shreds. But, I would do as she asked; I would give her time. I would have done just about anything for her at that moment.
    As I watched Angel and Dom usher her away, all the little pieces of my reformed life, the parts that had finally fallen into place, were left scattered in disarray.
    Kami said she couldn’t be saved, but I still needed to save her. She said she was broken, and I desperately wanted to fix her. She claimed she was unlovable, but…shit…
    I needed to love her.

I once was a believer in wishful thinking. I thought if I told myself that I was ok enough times that I could actually start to believe it. That somehow, I would eventually morph into the perfect picture of normalcy. That I could be somewhat happy.
    I was wrong.
    I wasn’t ok.
    Not even a little bit.
    This…sickness. This affliction… it ensured that I’d never be normal. That I’d never find contentment. That I would live out my days alone and unloved. And I honestly thought I was fine with that realization. I was resigned. No one deserved to have to deal with my shit. I wouldn’t wish that upon my worst enemy. Especially since my worst enemy was me.
    I lay curled up in a ball on my bed, humiliated and mortified beyond belief, staring at the glass jar of tiny paper stars.
    253.
    I know I should have added one. I know I should have brought that number to an even 254, but I wasn’t afraid. It wasn’t fear that consumed me. It was rage.
    Why couldn’t I have just fought through it? Why did I have to freak the fuck out like I always did? Why couldn’t I be normal for one damn day?
    Angry tears leaked from my tired eyes, trailing saltwater over my nose and onto the comforter. I brushed them away furiously. I was so sick and tired of crying. Of feeling sorry for myself.
    Fuck me. That’s right—fuck me! Fuck my stupid, hurt feelings. Fuck my inability to get over my past. Fuck my fear and all the things it crippled me from doing. Fuck it all!
    I punched the pillow in frustration, wishing I could be brave enough to take my anger out on the person who deserved it. It was all his fault. All his doing. If he hadn’t been such a disgusting, sadistic piece of shit, I wouldn’t be like this. I could