My Second Smile

I sat on the bridge, my legs hanging off the side. It was a nice, breezy day. The sky was a deep blue, cloudless and beautiful. The sun shone down on the waters below me, making it a shimmering green.

The bridge was where I went daily, a sanctuary for me to go to. The days slowly passing, with me on the same bridge in that same spot.

Maybe this is the day.

I have repeated that line everyday I came here. But today I was confident.

I looked down at the sea under me. Amazingly calm, waiting to engulf me in the deep waters. I flung the piece of paper behind me and clambered onto the railings.

I’ve always wanted to ask someone these questions.

Do you know what it feels like to be abandoned?

To be thrown around? Like someone’s rag doll, with no life?

Do you know what it’s like to love someone?

And to have your heart broken by them?

Do you know what it feels like to want to die?

Every single wretched moment of your life?

I bet you don’t.

And I bet you don’t care.

We are all broken, all of us.

Each one with our unique scar.

But I am different, I am not just broken.

I am so full of scars that I am disfigured.

My happiness a facade.

I am shattered. Crushed to dust.

And there is no way back.

~~~~~

I closed my eyes. The breeze ruffling my hair and clothes. And, I smiled.

For the first time in years.

Then, I shuffled forwards and lifted my foot. I was ready to let go.

As I tilted forwards, I felt a cold hand grasp my ankle. I spun round, furious.

“What? Go away!” I yelled.

“I do. And, I do,” the girl said. She had hazel, brown hair and amber eyes. The eyes that 

reached my soul. But that wasn’t the only thing unique about her. Her complexion was pale and she wore a baggy hospital gown. Despite all that, she was beautiful.

“What?” I asked, my voice softened. I was mesmerised.

“I do know these feelings. And, I do care. I really do,” Her lips twisted into a smile as she held up the paper.

I didn’t know what to say.

I stared at her and she stared at me. Both unrelenting. But she let go of my ankle and held up her hand.

Something caught my eye. Her wrists were covered in huge scars, still healing from the cut. I realised that she was like me. Broken, shattered and scarred. But different.

She was healing.

Her face was radiant, not showing a trace of misery of torture. But me? I gave up so fast. 

Looking at her hand, reaching out to me, I wanted to grab it. To put the past behind me and be reborn again. Before I could, she grinned.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“Ready for what?”

“For a new life,”

Without a moment’s hesitation, I grabbed her hand.

I was broken, broken to a point of no return. Grabbing her hand? Just a choice I made because I thought my life couldn't be worse. 

But now? Now, I think, I found the one to mend me. And I hope she found hers. 

I look at her, smile plastered on her face despite the scars covering her wrists and her heart.

My sunshine, my healer. 

And that day, was the day that I smiled a second time.