Ayla.

A lighter and a pocket knife. Two small soulless and mindless entities that come to life if a ménage á trois with a crooked mind takes place in a broken soul.

By the cliff of her favourite hill just outside of the hectic town, she stands quietly. Such a dangerous spot yet calms the restless souls if one's faith is as thick as blood. She looks ahead then down, everything that caused bruises and holes in her seemed small. Smaller than her, even as a whole. 

"Why, then, they could harm me?" she wonders.

Her right knuckle aching after meeting with the cupboard, the study table and the wall of her dorm room. She stares at it long enough that she thought it looked perfectly bloody. Her left arm is where the pocket knife spends his time, kissing the skin and flesh, gets into second then third bases, as aroused bodies could no longer suppress their sexual desires. There was another make out session right before she tip toed by the cliff. The leftie feels as weak as a sanity been bullied by conformity since the day it learnt to walk but still strong enough to keep a lit stick of Winston in between the first and second finger.

She rips off the grass grew by the side of her heels, balancing herself carelessly. She wanted to die, but not at that very second.

"They don't accept me... they can't accept me... they won't..." She keeps chanting, a part of her wishing it could still save her sanity but how can good wins when evil has taken over it completely.

She tried to breathe on her own and it managed to place her in a better life if compared to her old and messy one. A routine kept her sane but it became too tight that even a fly sized improvisation calls for a destruction. She moved around, did chores and searched for joy but without realizing it, she locked herself in her own cage and threw the key into the past, as a way that she no longer visits it .

She didn't want the key to be found. It opens up stairs of internal conflicts that were messing up her mind. She trapped each and every one of those devils and stored them away. Only that. She didn't want to confront its eyes, listen to its mouth works nor feel the words it could lay out specifically for her. She didn't want any more issues in her life.

One more, shall trigger her insanity.

It tickles any ironic state of mind when this new place, where she's supposed to find serenity, has been attempting to murder her. She ran, she ducked, she fired back, she confronted but she didn't win. Those very attempts made her strength thinner and shrunk.

She ran to her half-filled emergency kit, hoping it could make the pain fade away. What a naive girl, she has been through this same kind of situation before but in those phases she could not handle, she made herself into another person. To keep avoiding it, when it appears. The phases. This time around, it is not a phase. It has become her life. It has become one with her, there is no way around it.

"That is it!" her mind screams. 

She takes a last puff of the devilish pleasure, exhaling with a step on air and another. The cold wind raised up her hands, encouraging her to embrace the final fall. Her tears of joy were joined by the soft and gentle droplets of rain.

Then it hits again. PAIN but not in her, on her.

She now hangs by the cliff with the left side of her face burning. She sees dirt infront of her, she breathes in dirt, she tastes the bitterness of dirt.

"Don't give up now."

She looks up and sees a face whose hands are grabbing tightly onto hers, no signs of letting go appears. Only then, the pain that has been accompanying her disappears and she feels warm, on that cold chilly night.