Don't Touch Her Act 2: Finding Peace

Chapter Twenty-One

𝓒𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓪

I wanted to tell her about the times I almost committed.

More than I could count.

The times I hurt myself.

The bruises that cascaded my sides.

The marks on my body.

If only she knew.

I wanted to tell her about the times I threw myself against the floor, on the wall, just for some pain. The times I grabbed the knives and cut my thighs, the times I thought about deliberately stepping out into the road, falling down flights of stairs, jumping, starving myself until I simple wasn't there anymore. I wanted to tell her about the times I took knives and held them close to my body, wanting to, needing to, but couldn't.

If only she knew.

I could have told her, then and there. I couldn't. My tongue was hammered to the roof of my mouth.

I wanted her to know she wasn't alone. That I was there, that I would protect her. I wanted her to know she was safe. I would take the bullet, I would take the hit, I would let the fire consume me, I would let the knives break me. I would protect her.

I wanted her to know that I forgave her. What else would there be for me to do?

If I could, I'd erase the memories. I'd take them and consume them myself, just so she could be at peace.

If only she knew.

Sometimes I wanted to say things, tell her how I really felt, but words were too little, too hard to say.

She was my sister. We spent our lives together. We knew each other's secrets.

If only she knew how much I cared, how much it hurt me to know I failed, that I couldn't stop her or make her feel safe.

After all, I loved her.

She is my sister, and I could never leave her.