Starlight | Fillie

Breaking Point

"You fell in love with me. But I will never love you back." His voice thunders as takes a step to reach and close their distance.

He doesn't stop.

"Why should I love you? You're pathetic."

"I-I am n-not pathetic."

"Sucker of fame." He hisses. "Slut."

He walks, getting near, but Millie loses herself into that infinite landscape that she doesn't recognize.

She trembles, her air supply cut anytime he spits his words out. "S-stop it."

"Weak. Depressed. I know you are depressed."

"H-how do you know?" She manages to ask, collecting her words as he looks at her as if she was nothing at all.

"Why don't you kill yourself?" Finn's steps accelerate, his words even more poisoned. "Why don't you finish it all, Millie? Aren't you tired of living like this?"

"How could you say this to me?" She cries, and she would say more but no other sounds can go out from her lips.

She tries and tries, but she can't spit any other sound. It's like a force is holding her back.

"Why shouldn't I? I'm heartless. You called me that."

"Finn, p-please. I am—I am s-sorry."

He reaches for her, clenching her wrists in a tight grip. He bows his head down at her, hissing at her ear.

The last final verdict.

"You will die alone."

Millie opens her eyes at last, jerking up the mattress with a scream buried down her throat. Her covers are soaked in sweat, her heart pounding as the adrenaline rushes through her.

She brings her hand to her chest, checking if she is still able to breathe. Her eyes travel around the room, grasping the familiarity of the furniture. Only then she realizes that it was just a nightmare.

She exhales all the air she could possibly expel, her fingers trembling as she tries to get a grip of herself. Even if it was common having nightmares for her, or waking up in the middle of night...Finn couldn't look more real.

Her throat is sore. She reaches for her glass on the nightstand, pouring some cold water in it and drinking fast, rehydrating her mouth and body for all the sweat lost during this concrete Hell she has lived in front of her eyes.

Reviving those moments, all of the things Finn said to her in the past months was like falling off a cliff. Honestly, she doesn't know how they ended up like this—having dates and all of that.

She should feel on the top of the world, like a girl who finally got her boy, but right now, all that she thinks about is how miserable she is.

She can't stay in bed anymore. The thought of getting back to sleep and seeing that stuff again terrifies her.

So she gropes around and makes it to the desk of Sadie and Caleb's guest room; the black pitch wrapping her is somehow reassuringly. She sits at the desk, turning the abat-jour in and writing in her daily journal, finding a distraction in that flow of fear.

She grabs a pen, starting to scribble and note down whatever she felt in this right moment on the blank pages. Trying to analyze herself at last, just like her doctor recommended her to.

The ink takes form, and the words start to cover the empty papers. It takes her more time than she would ever thought, and she ignores the time passing by. Writing should be her ultimate deterrent by stopping her anxiety and disappointment.