Jay's Pov
For a few hours, I had almost forgotten the fact that I was hating Amy. I had to attempt to push her away for my forecasted long-term peace. But I had gone completely the opposite of my plan. Not to mention I almost made a kid cry by stating that 'Amy was already my wife and he better find some other woman for a girlfriend rather than mine.'
God, I was acting nuts. I realised I was melting. The warmth in her gaze whenever she looked out for me or needed my help. Her composure relaxed every time she saw me. She held onto me like an anchor. Making me have second thoughts on my earlier resolution. I couldn't let her have victory over me again or make her feel that I was an easy person to use and abandon like she did in the past. She was highly mistaken if she thought she could walk her way into my life again.
I wasn't gonna let that happen.
Once we were out of the building, I started wandering around the vast area of greenery. This place was the backside of the building, mostly deserted.
And while I thought Amy had left, she was right behind me. And followed me like a lost puppy. We argued for the next few minutes. And I had concluded that the woman I'm dealing with is insufferable. I wasn’t getting rid of her anytime soon.
I angrily stomped away and walked with no direction. I thought it would give me some peace of mind, but I was so wrong. Amy had been on my back. She wanted to talk with me even more. But I didn't stop and kept walking. The fact that in the past, she wouldn’t even speak without purpose, as if her words were more valuable than the country’s GDP. It annoyed me. But I was determined to ignore her like she did in the past. I wanted to let her taste her own medicine.
The very next second, she screamed at me to stop as if she was having an outburst. But I didn't stop, nor did I look back. And she kept screaming at me to stop, and the more she screamed, the faster I kept walking, faster and faster.
And the next moment, all I knew was being dragged away by gravity. I lost balance somewhere, and I realized it was a steep slope, and I had no idea where it would end. My eyes closed when my glasses fell away at impact, and my breath had been knocked out of my lungs. I had surrendered to my fate for whatever was about to come.
Until I felt a tight grip on my arm. My eyes snapped open to find myself hanging on the cliff. My eyes peered upwards to find Amy, who had been struggling and using all her strength to hold me back. I felt the harsh winds hitting me on the face. I momentarily looked down, though everything looked blurry, but I could make out and apply all my ifs.
If I fell down this cliff, my body wouldn't be found.
And I would be dead for sure if not for Amy holding me by my arm.
Amy: Give me your other hand!!
She puffed, sticking out her other hand, waiting for me to hold. I obeyed.
After that, she used all her raw strength to pull me up, but she miserably failed. And as a result, she was being dragged off the cliff due to my weight.
I was blank even though I wanted to think of solutions.
After 2 minutes of struggling to settle in, I could think of 2 solutions.
1. We could scream for help. And if we are lucky enough, we could get help.
But we were on the back side of the building, and no one comes here, so the chances of help arriving are impossible, if not a miracle.
2. I could ask Amy to drop me off the cliff and let me die.
Because if she kept on pulling me, it would be most likely that both of us would fall to our deaths.
I could hear Amy grunting; she was trying hard to maintain her grip on the steep ground and not get dragged.
I glanced up at her blankly. And my eyes caught something unusual but familiar. A silver chain with our wedding rings on it. It had slipped out of her shirt during the ambush.
For some reason, I couldn't help but stare at it. Why was she so hell-bent on getting me back? Why did I matter to her? Why wouldn’t she just let me go?
She should let me go.
"Let me go. Give up."
I didn't know I was thinking out loud until I saw Amy's expression change. She halted her struggle after hearing me. For a few seconds, she looked blank, as if she was considering my words. But the next moment, she looked angry, her jaw clenched, her grip on my arms tightened.
Amy: In your dreams, Doctor.
She gritted.
Amy: I won't let you die. Not until I’m dead. You get it!
She fumed.
And I didn't know if her anger was working in a good way. She had suddenly turned powerful. And she had successfully pulled me halfway up. Maybe it was adrenaline. And she kept pulling me up, plunging her feet at the back and gripping hard on the ground. She was defying gravity and was absolutely using brute force.
And by the time I could register, I was already on the ground. With all the struggle pushed on the steep slope, Amy had pulled me all the way back to the stable land. She was breathing heavily, and so was I. We both stumbled and hit the ground, exhaustion wrecking the nerves.
My heart raced, my brain registering the fact that I was pulled back from the jaws of death. I was almost opting for Amy to let me fall off a cliff to my death. Now that I realize it, I was acting stupid. My back hit the ground, and Amy fell right beside me, and all I could do was lie and look up at the cloudy sky above me as I tried to catch my breath.
After a few minutes, once my nerves calmed. I finally got up, sitting straight, only to find Amy still crouched to the ground, sitting on her knees. Her hands were resting on her head, her hands fisted in her hair as if she would pull them from the roots, looking down. I could see her expression as her hair covered her face. She didn't move. But her breaths were heavy; she was struggling to breathe.
I scooted closer towards her. Slowly approaching her, my hands holding hers gently. I hesitated, wondering if she wanted my company or wanted to be left alone. She didn't react. I slowly loosened up her hands that were balled into fists and were tightly gripping her hair. I slowly pulled her hands away, but she didn't look up. Her hands were trembling and cold. Her hands felt cold to the bone, as if they were those of a corpse. She looked pale.
Jay: Amy? Amy. Are you okay?
She didn't answer.
My fingers gripped her chin, gently craning her face upwards, to look at me. I took a sharp breath, finding her vulnerable. Her lips quivered. Brushing her hair away from her eyes, I could finally look at her eyes, which were slowly turning glossy and red. Her face had a few scratches, one stretching across her cheekbone as it bled.
She wasn't looking at me. She was staring into nothing. I felt my heart clench at her state. I wasn't sure what had triggered her. My eyes scanned through her body looking for any injuries. My eyes stopped at the ripped sweatshirt down her torso. It was a deep cut. And there was another cut on her shoulder. I didn't stay any longer for any further analysis as I stood up. Looking around, I found her heels sprawled on the ground.
I realised that she knew that I was about to fall and she had attempted to stop me. She had run barefoot to save me, and I was sure her feet were injured as well. Collecting her heels, I went back to her. I gathered her in my arms, lifting her. She didn't react, nor did she wrap her hands around my neck for support. She wasn’t even caught off guard. Because she wasn’t mentally present with me. I was afraid. I wasn't sure what had been running through her skull.
But I didn't seek answers at the current moment and headed straight towards the office. Treating her injuries was my priority. Finally stepping into the office, I entered the spare room connected to the office. I often rested in that spare room when I wanted to spend time with myself. A hidden bedroom. It was mostly a secret; none of my staff and volunteers knew about the room except my assistant, Mr. Fukuzawa.
Once I reached near the bed, I placed Amy on the bed. And she still hadn't reacted to any of my actions. Her blank face was always familiar to me, but I just couldn't unsee the oozing vulnerability that flickered in her eyes. I wanted her to speak. To tell me her fears and what was bothering her so much. I halted my train of thought, focusing on the task at hand.
Reaching for the first aid box on the table, near the bed. I used cotton swabs to clean her cuts on the face and feet. Wiping the blood away, I disinfected her. Once I was done, I looked at her, expecting to at least make eye contact. But she didn't.
Now all that was left were the wounds on her torso and shoulder.
Jay: I need you to remove the shirt.
I spoke hesitantly.
But all she did was stare at nothing. I slowly scooted closer, trying to get her attention. To at least get her out of the trance she was trapped in.
Resting my hands on her shoulder. I looked at her and spoke again.
Jay: Amy, I need to treat your wounds. I want your shirt removed.
I emphasised my words to let it sink in. And the next moment, Amy had raised her arms, and she was finally looking at me.
Amy: Help me.
I sighed in annoyance at her antics, but it brought me relief that she was finally coming back to her senses.
Reaching to the hem of her shirt, I gently lifted it upwards. My heart raced and my breath was caught as I swallowed the lump forming in my throat out of nervousness. Finally getting rid of her shirt, I exhaled sharply. She was only left in her innerwear on top and pants beneath, but I stared at her face, not to make things awkward. I was expecting a smirk from her, which she always did while teasing me. But she stayed blank. I wasn't sure what to say to make her speak to me. At the moment, I thought of giving space to Amy, not wanting to pressure her into thinking of anything. Instead, I went ahead to treat her wounds.
I couldn't help but recognize the number of scars that were all over her body and had increased in the span of two years, apart from the fresh wounds. Starting from her shoulders to her torso, I already knew the scars from before that were on her back. I glanced at the scar on her tattooed arm, which had slashed the face of the inked tiger right through the eye, making it look scarier and more intimidating. It must have been a bullet that had missed and gone past her arm. The other was a stab wound on her torso that stood out. Edward had stabbed her with a knife. And there were more scars that were small in size and were slowly fading.
My eyes trailed to her wounds as I started cleaning them. Some were small cuts, some were deep, but I was glad that they didn't need stitches. I kept stealing glances at her face in case it burned when I started disinfecting her wounds. But she still had that blank look. After 10 minutes of brain-numbing silence and my curiosity reached its peak. I finally started to speak.
Jay: You knew I was walking towards the cliff, didn't you? You tried to stop me. Had you been there before?
I muttered calmly, keeping my eyes on dressing her wound. I didn’t expect a reply.
Amy: Yeah, I had my plans to jump off from there and fall to my death when I was young.
My hands stopped, my eyes snapped to her, but she didn't meet mine. As if she were trying to hide her shame. The limited information that I had about her childhood was that her mom had died when she was just a small kid. And by her evident hatred toward my father-in-law, she had a serious beef with him at the event that we attended after our marriage. She was tortured when she was 11. She got into the mafia. She pretended to be a guy for most of the years. I had encountered her once when we were kids. A hazy and not at all memorable past.
I didn't speak, wanting her to continue.
Amy: When my mom died, all I had left was a shell of a father who mourned his wife's death. I was somehow abandoned. A year later, he miraculously married another woman, none other than my friend Martha's mother. It was the start of a new hell.... I was slowly losing myself.... Lost 2 years of my memories, and my father didn't even bat an eye. I felt alone. An orphan at that.... who was a target of hatred. The people around me started distancing themselves from me. I was labelled as a bad influence because of the false news that the media spread about my mother. Life had been insufferable for me.... I had lost hope and direction in living. Each passing second of breathing felt like torture. I was bullied and trashed in all aspects of growth. And one day, I just couldn't take it anymore......
She spoke quietly as she trailed off in between, yet she managed to speak, and my hands found her cold, trembling hands. I rubbed my palm against her cold skin, trying my best to provide warmth to her hands. My heart had clenched at every syllable she spoke. I swallowed hard; my eyes burned with tears threatening to spill. I had somehow managed to keep my composure.
Jay: What made you change your mind?
I whispered; my question brimmed with pure curiosity. I saw a flicker in her eyes, expecting pity, a feeling that she hated the most. To be pitied was another way of feeling or being called pathetic, which I hated as well. I hated being pitied, and I wasn’t going to pity her. I was going to listen and let her say whatever she wanted to get that burden off her chest. While I continued to slowly rub her palm, trying to offer warmth. I couldn't imagine myself in her shoes. A small child thinking about suicide, the mere thought of it made my stomach churn.
Amy: Once you reach the edge, you either think about the damage the height would cause you or, damn it all, surrender yourself willingly to death. I stood at the very edge of the cliff; one step forward, and I could fall to my death. I did see the height, but I couldn't see the end. I wasn't sure how long it would take for my body to hit the ground. Would it be a slow and painful death once I hit the ground, or would I rather get my skull smashed in an instant and die on impact?
I wanted her to stop speaking; it was disturbing, and it sent shivers down my spine. But I still kept silent, wanting her to speak.
“But what made me stop was realisation. Was it worth giving up my life for some stupid bunch of shits called humans? Why should I give up my life? If I were in a world surrounded by monsters who wanted me gone, why should I give them that satisfaction by giving up myself? I would rather slit their throats than strangle mine.”
Her words came unhurried; she kept staring at nothing in space, and her still composure told me that she meant each syllable that left her lips.
Amy: I think that cliff gave me a sense of reality. What I wanted and what I could be. I was at rock bottom, not buried yet. I wasn't meant to be buried.
She exhaled.
Jay: I see.
I was somewhat realizing where her nonchalant self came from. I had always thought of her as ruthless, someone who wouldn’t give a damn if the world were set on fire until it reached her or me. She was unkind for a reason. She trusted less. She wouldn’t step into hell if she weren’t in control of it.
I sighed, silently continuing to bandage and dress her wounds. Once I was done, I brought a new shirt for her to wear. She obeyed my words without protest. Once she was dressed, I gave her a painkiller.
Jay: Rest for now.
I stood up, turning my heels to leave the room. I felt a tug at my wrist. Looking back, I met Amy’s eyes.
Amy: Don’t leave, please.
