Up the stairs I run

Every morning same routine, wake up, cry, have a shower, cry in the shower, get out the shower, dry myself, brush my teeth whilst crying, walk into my bedroom, sit on my bed, stare at the wall cry some more, dry my face, put my makeup on, get dressed, put my hair up then down the stairs to reach the front door. I freeze, extend my arm to touch the cold rusting door handle knowing that outside of this door is where all the menacing people await me. The panic ensues and I don’t want to leave. Up the stairs I run back to my safe space, get under my duvet and lie there for a moment, look at my phone and times passing quickly and I need to leave now otherwise I’ll be late. I feel my heart throbbing against my chest, pounding with immeasurable force as if it were trying to escape. The last piece of my broken heart attempting to leave like everyone else around me. But today will be no same routine. Down the stairs no pause no hesitation but out the door. Without any thought I begin to walk, for two whole hours I’m walking feet burning eyes pouring but nevertheless still walking. Cars driving past me with no clue as to what my intentions are, in my head I’m begging them to stop just someone stop, one person is all it takes. One person will change everything but no one stops. Then I reach it, I climb over the barrier and hold tightly to the rail, daring not to let go, not yet, not this second. Don’t let go. I watch the cars pass beneath me, now timing is key to doing this right. I take one hand off the rail, lifting each finger one at a time. I bring my arm forward to my side feeling my body become heavier, as the ground beneath me invites me nearer. Tempting my right foot over the edge feeling the wind against my body, imaging the pull of gravity tug my body onto the motorway beneath me and then I fall. Fall onto the ground behind me and open my eyes to see a panicked face screaming at me, inaudible screams. What is she saying? I’m cradled in her arms whilst she strokes my hair, rocking me to and fro to and fro as if I were her new-born child, holding me tightly protecting me against my own wicked mind. Those kind brown eyes reminding me that I’m not alone, that care can be found in anyone even in a stranger. Those eyes will live with me forever, her voice stationed tenderly in my mind in every passing moment of sorrow and joy reminding me that someone cared. I no longer run back up the stairs.

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