Resilience

58| Rhett Hayes

I don't normally get anxiety attacks, but when I do, they last a long time and leave me at my most vulnerable, with only suicidal thoughts in mind, but not this time because she was there to comfort me, and for the first time in my life, I didn't have to go through it all alone.

Comfort— something I'd never experienced before.

It was a new feeling that I wasn't aware of because the only thing I'd ever known was pain and darkness.

She attended to my injuries and ever so slightly flinched in pain whenever she applied ointment on any of my wounds, as if it were physically painful to her as well.

Not once have her eyes held any sort of judgments.

They were only filled with pain and panic as she looked concerned and worried for someone she had never met— much like today.

Her presence or even her mere thought was enough to fill me up with solace and hope.

Hope— that seems so unreal, that sounds so unfamiliar, that felt so strange.

She looked innocent and quiet yet so brave.

Crazy enough to help a random stranger, she looked so pure, the kind this world would tear apart but her spunk is what made her so fascinating.

And when I saw the almost invisible bruise on her face that was hidden beneath her flawless makeup, all I could feel was rage but there was a pit of dread in my stomach.

I was scared thinking of all the wrong possibilities.

I was afraid.

All I wanted to do was hold her in my arms and protect her from this world, from anyone who could harm her.

I couldn't disagree that I have some sort of strong infatuation towards her but I was determined not to accept it because deep down I was aware that there was nothing that could ever happen between us.

We are from two different worlds— she's rich whereas I could only afford to attend this prestigious school because of scholarship.

She seems to have a lot of friends, whereas I've always been alone. She's always had a family, whereas the only ones I had didn't fight enough to stay with me. She must be spoiled, while I have to work for every single thing— even so, to survive.

She is rich, whereas I am only a filth in the eyes of riches.

But I still couldn't stop myself, I slowly yet carefully brought my hand up as they cupped her face while my thumb grazed her wounded skin ever so softly.

She never once looked away from me as I captured her face with my eyes, creating a picture I could never get sick of looking at.

My thoughts are getting cringy,

What the hell is this girl doing to me?

"I happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I swear I'm fine. There's nothing to be worried about." She finally answered my question, snapping me out of my thoughts.

The emotions in her eyes were masked which made me ponder whether or not she was telling the truth.

I scrutinised her face, trying to figure out if she was lying or not, but all she did was furrow her eyebrows and shrug her shoulders as she drew me back to a sitting position and resumed bandaging my wounds.

Her face was contorted into concentration.

She would morph her features to reflect the emotions she was feeling. In one moment she looked angry as her eyebrows were furrowed, and in the next, she would scowl as her lips would curl into an adorable pout while her eyes would squint as if she was in pain.