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On the Edge (Thaedael&PoetDreamer)

She had gotten up off the ground, and his legs braced instinctively, the toes of his shoes digging soft grooves against the muddy gravel, ready to push off at an instant in case she had decided against his wishes. He told her to do it, but he wouldn't actually let her, not without a fight. She drew closer, his muscle tight.

Then, she reconsidered it all, and a weight was lifted off his shoulders, off his conscience, and his body felt all the heavier, the last of the adrenaline finally lifting from his system, his muscles loosening. He wanted to fall to the ground and weep with joy.

"No. I can't teach you. You ask me questions like I know the answers. I can't teach you, because I am learning about life myself."
 
Taking his hand, Bri placed his phone in it before walking back over to the fence, slowly climbing over it. Every part of her body hurt; she just hoped that it wasn't evident when she moved, but it all hurt so badly. Although she was used to some physically pain, this felt entirely new to her.

He wouldn't help her. Whether it was because he wouldn't or couldn't didn't matter. Him saying no was just telling her that she was still alone, like she always had been. She was alone when her father threw books at her. She had been alone on her boyfriends basement floor while he cut the clothes off of her. She was tired of being alone, and the guy who wouldn't let her kill herself was still just reinforcing that she had to be alone.

"Don't worry, I won't kill myself. You can leave now." She said, drawing her sweatshirt closer to herself. If she had to be alone in this new life, might as well get it started that way.
 
He gripped the phone tightly in his hand, watching her walk away, every movement in her body jagged and harsh, the emotional and physical pain showing in her body. He let out a long sigh of relief, the breath of his fogging up and away from himself towards the raining heavens, all the anxieties of his body leaving in mist. He turned his head away from her, overlooking their small city from the edge of the cliff, the lights sparkling through the sea of dark green trees that bobbed on invisible currents. It was the right call. It had to be the right call. He would make it the right call.

He gripped the phone tighter in his hand, before setting off in a light sprint, determined to catch up with her. As always, her actions contradicted what she said. She had given him permission to leave, but it was her whom walked away from him. "So..." he said, unsure of how to enter a conversation that was clearly over. "Where to now?"
 
It was over. The night had just begun, but her internal battle was over. He had convinced her not to end it, but now she was more lost than ever. Before she had always had an end to look forward to, one that was in her control. Now she felt like nothing was in her control. She had allowed this one guy to talk her out of the one thing she could claim as her own, and now she didn't know what to do.

Her head was down, tears slowly falling down her cheeks. She watched her slow feet hit the ground, water splashing up every time a foot hit the ground. Bri was so consumed by the thoughts of being alone and not trusting anyone that his voice startled her. "That's up to me to figure out. Don't worry, I know you won't help me in this life you made me stay in." She said, not wanting to be near him. How could he expect her to want him to? "To your house."
 
They had walked along the cracked asphalt of the walking path, the water gathering in every crack and crevice, reflecting light back up to them from underneath their very feet, the lighting in this area reflecting with a sheen off the dampness of every imperfect surface. It was from this light under her face, that he noticed her tears, noticed the way she had hung her head low. Everything about her, everything she had dealt with. He wanted once more to hold her in an embrace, to run a hand through her hair and tell it would be alright, but how could he? She was damaged, her view of the world shattered, her view on men: shattered, her own self worth irrevocably destroyed. She had told him time and time again, that this was no time or place to judge her, no actions significant. He continued to look at her from the side, before stumbling in a pothole, both his feet drenched all the way through socks and shoes and causing him to lose balance. He managed to regain it, before stumbling ahead of her a few steps, before regaining his sure footing once more, the ground once more under his feet properly.

"I don't think I can help you. The kind of help you need, I am not the one that can give it to you. If you let me into your new life, I can try and be there, and I can try and be understanding, but I can't be everything you want or need." The wind blew once more, chilling him to the very core of his being, his body shivering.
 
Bri was aware of him stumbling, but she just kept walking. Her feet moved beneath her out of habit, the ground blurring as they moved along. She was so tired and in so much pain. The tears kept coming and she could no long control them. It was as if the dam she had built up over these past months had broken and released everything.

Then he spoke. The words were loud and soft at the same time. Of course he couldn't help her. Of course he couldn't be everything she needed. But was he really willing to try? She doubted his ability to truly deal with her. Her mouth opened to say so many things, but only one sentence came out: "I can't see anyone in authority."

Her head was spinning; the entire world was spinning around her. Her feet stopped moving, but it didn't feel like she had stopped. All of the day's events were finally catching up to her, finally since she no longer saw an end to the pain. Bri went to sit down, not trusting her ability to stand.
 
"Excuse me?" he said, perplexed at the statement she had made. She can't see people in authority? Does she mean that people with authority, or authorities such as public services? She had just decided to sit down, the car in sight just a bit further from where she sat down. "The car is just over there" he said, pointing to a beaten old honda civic. He hesitated a moment, noticing that she wobbled even while sitting. "Are you ok?"
 
Nothing was stable. Everything was wobbling beneath her, and the tears fell down her face uncontrollably. She just barely heard his question before crawling a few spaces away from him before vomiting what little she had in her system, which was mostly just fluid. The girl would have gone farther away so he couldn't see, but her body was refusing to hold her up for much longer. Her damp clothes were weighing her down, and all of the abuse she had been threw was finally becoming too much.

"Nothing is stable." She said, her eyes closing in hope that would keep the world from spinning, but even that wasn't helping her. Her entire body shook from the rain and cold and shock of everything. "I was so close."
 
"Fuck..." he shouted to himself from drawn lips, unsure of what had happened. She had been walking just fine one moment, before sitting down, and now this. She had crawled but a few paces away from his field of vision, before vomiting. She shook against the muddy ground, her body shivering against the patches of grass that were left undisturbed by mankind on the edges of the parking lot. "Fuck, fuck, fuck..." he shouted once more, scrambling from the parking block he had sat on, crawling over to where she had collapsed. As he drew closer, he heard her whispering to herself, but could not make heads of what she said. He hooked one arm up around her stomach, gently turning her onto her side, then onto her back, her body flat against the ground. Her eyes were closed, her lips blue, drawn lips shivering. She looked like she was suffering from hypothermia. "No, not like this. I didn't save you so you could die anyway. Not like this!" he shouted to her, trying to open her eyes. He took her by the knees, bending them up and off the ground, before hooking his right arm out and under her legs. With his other arm, he dug his arm under her, fingers first through tufts of grass, before it snaked out under the side opposite of him. He braced his knee against the ground, before lifting the girl off the ground, her body surprisingly light, more so than he would have thought.

He ran in a light sprint towards his car, careful to not lose footing once more, holding her tight against his chest as he went. The lights went racing by, the abandoned parking lot drenched in surface water. He was drawing closer, the wind on his back, before he finally got to his car. He stopped, his knee against the door of the passenger side, her body braced in one arm, on one leg, and against the broadest part of his chest, his other hand fumbling for keys before he managed to unlock the car. He dropped his keys, the metal slipping in wet and numb fingers, falling to the asphalt with a jingle. "Shit." he cursed, before once more shifting her in his arms. He slowly inched his knee along the door, leaving a streak of moisture against the panels of the car, slowly shifting her so that the door was now free. Once more, in awkward handling, he was able to grasp the handle of the door, fingers tingling as he wrapped his hand around the handle, yanking it fully open. He gently placed her into the car, buckling her in, before slumping to one knee to pick up his keys. He slammed the door shut behind him.

Quickly, he sprinted around the other side of the car, before entering it himself, ramming the keys home in the ignition, and turning on the car. He needed to get her somewhere warm, fast, and a new set of dry clothes. Whether she liked it or not, his house was the closest thing to the cliff side, and without hesitation, he begun to pull away. While keeping an eye on the rear-view mirror, he fumbled for the heat controls in the car, fingers sliding across the control panel.
 
After vomiting, Brielle was only vaguely aware of what happened. At one point she remembered opening her eyes and seeing the sky. How had she ended up on the ground? Time was flying by. Next thing she knew, arms were around her. She tried to flinch away, as she had become used to doing whenever someone had touched her. There were voices, but she couldn't make out what they were saying. Not that it mattered. Her immune system was done and her body was just completely worn out by this point. The small rational part of her mind was terrified that he would take her to the hospital.

He was picking her up. She wanted to flinch away, tell him he was hurting her, not that he was trying to hurt her, but just because her body had taken all that it was willing to take. How ironic: she had wanted to die tonight, and although it wasn't in the way she had planned, she may still be dying tonight.

She vaguely remembered being carried to the car. Everything was moving anyways. She sat curled up in his car as he had put her, too weak to do anything. There was no energy left in her to ask where they were going, then everything went black.

The next time she opened her eyes, she had no clue where she was. The walls were white, but the sheets around her weren't. So she wasn't in the hospital. Great. But where was she? Her mind processed that she was no longer wet, but she was still cold. Wait. Had he changed her? Crap. So he would have seen the lack of underwear thanks to her boyfriend. He would have seen the bruises left by her father. He would have seen what drove her to that cliff that night. Was it still night? And where was she?

Trying to sit up, Brielle realized she was still weak and extremely thirsty. She looked around her, trying to get some bearing on her surroundings, and find out if there was anyone around.
 
The whistle sounded, the water coming to full boil under the intense flames of the gas stove, the black-metal of the whistle and lid rattling against the spout of the kettle. The wall clock continued to tick, the brass pendulum swinging side to side, counting the seconds away. Several hours had passed, and still, she stood across from him, judging him. The kitchen was small, the two of them taking up all available standing room. He stood with his back to the only window, both hands up against the counter, his back resting against the lip of the sink. She stood in the open arch, both arms resting against the wooden frame, her eyes on him. She was angry. He didn't need any visual cues from the way she held her body, the way her shoulders were drawn tight against the frame, or the way she tapped the back of one heel against the tiled floor. It was all in her eyes.

"Why?" she repeated again, as if asking it for the fourth time in the last five minutes wasn't enough. The question hung heavily in the air. The kettle continued to whistle, but neither of them moved to it. To move to the kettle would be a sign of giving in, a sign of intelligence that the two stubborn people refused to enact.

"She needed help" he simply stated, once more responding the same way, as if repeating the words brought further weight to the decision.

"She's nothing but trouble Pierre". She was right. his room-mate Michelle had always been right. She had been the one that stripped the girl down to skin in the privacy of her closed bedroom. She had been the one to notice the scratches, and the bruises. Some were recent, others, the age was not hard to discern at all.

"She's covered in them. We need to bring her to the police. We need to bring her to the hospital. What good can we do here?"

The kettle continued to whistle, the steaming spout fogging up the glass of the window, precipitation beading along the backboard of the stove top and up the wall.

"I don't know." he simply stated. He was warmer now, a fresh pair of clothes having done that. A simple pair of sweatpants, the marbled grey and white fabric embroidered with the letters of his university. He tugged at the band of his pants with one hand, his fingers grazing against a matching hem of a sweatshirt.

"She didn't want to go to either of them."

"Well you have to. You know she is being abused-" she was cut off, her face enraged that he would do it.

"I know. But that ends tonight"

She moved forward, getting ready to strike at him, one manicured hand balled up and ready to hit at him when they heard the creaking of a wooden floorboard. She stopped mid stride, her hand falling down to her exposed thigh. She wore a simple t-shirt, and a pair of boy-briefs.

"Looks like your guest is awake. Do what you want, just remember, you get the couch tonight" she turned on the ball of her heel, stomping from the room, and walking past the girl that wore her clothes, not even bothering to excuse herself. She rounded the corner, and disappeared from their sight, leaving Bri in the doorway of the kitchen. The slamming of a bedroom door confirmed that the two were left alone.

Pierre finally moved, flipping the switch off on the stove off.

"Good morning" he said, the clock in the room showing that it was four in the morning.
 
After waiting for a little while, Bri got tired of waiting. She removed the blanket that she had been tucked into and placed it on the back of the couch she was on. Following the sound of voices, she went to a doorway. Looking around, she noticed a kitchen. Parts of their conversation stuck out to her, but she hadn't been paying close attention so just the gist of it was all she got.

A woman stormed past her. Brielle watched her storm down a short hallway, and shortly later the slamming of a door could be heard. Crossing her arms, the girl looked down. She was in short sleeves, which she normally tried to avoid, and sweatpants, both of which were unfamiliar to her. Normally she would have hidden her battered arms, but she knew he had seen them anyways so it was pointless in hiding them now.

"I'm..." She started, but her throat was scratchy so she tried to clear it. "I'm sorry I caused so much trouble with your girlfriend." She said softly, wondering if the other girl were so furious because he had been out late with another woman. since she didn't know their situation or anything at all pretty much, she was making guesses.

"Umm...thanks for bringing me here and not...not anywhere else." Her hands moved up and down her upper arms where they rested. This felt really awkward. "Look, I can leave, make things easier for you." For some reason, she felt he wouldn't let her, just like he wouldn't let her die, not at her own hand or for health issues. In a few hours, this guy, whose name she didn't even know, had been nicer to her than anyone else in her life.
 
She made no effort to move further into the cramped quarters of the kitchen, instead standing in the open archway that fed into the enclosed space. He turned his head as she spoke, her eyes tracing up and down her body, noticing that the clothes of his room-mate hung loosely on her form, the girl having been much shorter, and much skinnier than Michelle. That was not all he noticed, however, and he drew his eyes away from the bruises on her arms, deciding it was best not to linger, the girl already appearing self-conscious about the whole situation.

"Make no mistake. She is not my girlfriend, and she would be the first to let you know. She is nothing more than my childhood friend and roommate." He moved away from the stove top towards a cabinet on the opposite wall, pulling it open. Inside were the various glasses and cups, and he hooked one hand each around corresponding cups, before pulling them free from the shelves. He placed them heavily on the laminated counter-tops, before turning to face her once more. "No harm in staying a while longer. The damage with her already done, might as well take advantage of the roof over your head" he said with a smile. He was tired, having been awake much longer than he had anticipated, than what he wanted.

"Tea? Instant Coffee?" he offered.
 
For some reason, hearing that the girl wasn't his roommate put her to ease a little. Not that is should matter to her, because it really made no difference in her life what-so-ever. Either way though, it still felt really awkward in that apartment.

"I don't even know your name." Was the first thing she said. He had tackled her off the edge of a cliff, talked her into not taking her own life, saved her from dying without even jumping, and brought her to his own place, risking a fight with his roommate just to honor her wishes even though it made his life more complicated, and she didn't even know his name or anything about him beside the assumption that he went to the college plastered on his clothes.

And here he was offering her tea, not even knowing her name, though he knew more about her than she knew about him. Yes, she noticed him looking at her arms, but she figured that was normal. "Tea, please, if it's not trouble." Tea felt like it would be soothing to her sore throat, which was probably a result of the attempt to vomit more than she had in her.

However, Bri kept feeling back. Here he was doing so much for someone he didn't even know, who would not be affected at all from her death, yet he had saved her twice. "Thank you." She finally said, deciding to show a little gratitude for once.
 
"No need to thank me", he said, shrugging of her apology easily. "Offering you tea is the least I can do after having kept you in the rain so long. To think you weren't kidding about getting sick out there" he let out a small chuckle at the incident. The incident that had scared him half to death and left him wondering if he had did the right thing at all. He pushed the thoughts deeper into his mind, not wanting to confront that thought just yet. He opened a cabinet at eye level, before pulling a rolling shelf out, the whole thing full of different teas. He grabbed two teabags from the front-most one, tossing one into each cup. With a simple gesture, he poured the hot water into the cups.

"My name is Pierre. Nice to meet you...?" he just realized her had not made her acquaintance all night.
 
"You saved me twice tonight. And you listened to me when you really didn't have to. I do need to thank you." Bri insisted, watching him make the tea from her position in the entryway. Of course, she stood there extremely awkwardly, not sure what to do. She still felt tired and weak and like she had stood in the rain for a couple of hours, but that was probably to be expected after standing in the rain for a couple of hours.

"Brielle." She said, since he had inquired as to what her name was as well. "Most people just call me Bri." She said, taking the cup of tea he offered, blowing gently on the liquid inside to cool it down before drinking some. "So, umm....you sleep on the couch often?" It was a sentence she had heard the roommate say, and she was at a loss for conversation topics.
 
"Brie?" he repeated. He looked at her, one eye brow cocked as she took the tea he had poured for her. "Like the cheese?" She had finally entered into the cramped space, getting close enough to accept the tea he had offered her. He stood once more against the lip of the sink, both hands wrapped around the white porcelain cup he had, the warmth flowing through every joint.

"And no, it is not often I sleep on the couch. The pull out bed is..." how should he say it? "Well, it's a piece of shit, pardon my language. My parents insisted on having an extra bed for when they come to visit, insisting that it would be often. However, the thing is so terrible, they end up kicking me out of my bed to avoid it." he cringed thinking at the back pain he would when he awoke later in the day from a terrible night's rest on that modern day torture device.

"Regardless, I think I will take my chances sleeping on it in couch form." He blew at the tea, a simple jasmine smell rewarding his efforts.
 
For the first time since they met, Bri smiled. "I guess you could say it is like the cheese." She said, her lips still lightly curled up from what he had said.

"Then why sleep on it tonight? Does your roommate really have that much say on where you sleep to kick you out of your own bed?" The girl asked, then wondering where she would sleep. Maybe she could sneak out while he would be sleeping. That wouldn't be nice though, and he had been nothing but nice to her.

She held the cup as tightly as she could, which wasn't that tight at the moment. It hadn't been until she had the cup in her hands that she had realized how cold she had been. "I guess I'll just leave in the morning then?" She wasn't sure where she would go, or where she could go, but she couldn't expect him to take care of her.
 
"No, usually she has no say in what bed I sleep. Usually. She has opinions on everything else however." He brought a hand up from his cup, rubbing at his nappy hair, pathetically admitting she controlled pretty much everything in this realm, despite it being his. "It's the price I pay for having you sleep in her bed. So yes, she gets my bed tonight. And I? I get the couch, which is convenient in case you try to run away again. So no, you don't get to just leave in the morning."
 
Bri opened her mouth to argue. She didn't want to kick anyone out of any bed. She didn't want to inconvenience anyone at all. "But..." The girl shut her mouth. "I can't just stay here forever." Stated she, taking a sip of the tea. The hot liquid felt good as it slid down her throat, and she could feel her insides warming already. If I promise not to leave, will you sleep in her bed? You've done enough for me already, I won't ask you to sleep on the couch for me as well." Brielle said, still feeling bad. There had to come a point though when she would have to find her own place to stay and learn how to support herself. Pierre couldn't support her forever, and he would have to realize that eventually. "Why don't you go to sleep? You look tired."
 
"Oh trust me. Michelle will see that you don't overstay your welcome. She will see indeed." He brought his own cup to his lips, sipping at the tea, content to feel the warmth radiate through him to his very core. It had been a long night, and the jasmine tea went a long way in making him feel better. "And..." he added. "I am in trouble enough getting you to sleep in her bed, I have no intention in jumping into hot water with her by sleeping in her bed too."

He looked at the clock, the face of the clock showing a quick reflection of himself in it's polished surface. It was late, it might be better to go to sleep and think about everything she would have to do at another itme.
 
When he said something about sleeping in her bed TOO, Bri chocked on the tea she was swallowing and had to set her cup down to keep from spilling it. "No..." She gasped, drinking a small sip after chocking. "I mean...I would take the couch gratefully, not that we'd sleep in there together..." Besides, Bri didn't expect she would be sleeping that much without completely passing out again.

It didn't take long to finish her drink. She hadn't realized how thirsty she had been. The tea had been good though. "I guess we should just go to bed." She said, feeling awkward in a house that wasn't hers where she didn't even know where anything was, or really who the people were in it.
 
He let out a small stifled laugh at how she had reacted, the misunderstanding bringing a smile to his face. "No, no, no!" he laughed, shaking his head side to side. "I seemed to have jumbled my words. I meant that even if I were to trade sleeping arrangements, she would be doubly angry if she gave up her bed, only for me to sleep in it!" it was an amusing thought. Sharing a bed with her was the last thing he wanted to do, not after everything she had been through already. She held herself awkwardly in their house, and he had no intention of increasing that discomfort for her. He sipped at his tea some more.

"If you wish to go to bed, you are more than welcomed to. Don't stay up for my sake"
 
"You need some rest as well," was all Brielle said for a while.

She had intended to stay awake as long as he did, but her body still felt worn out and beaten down. "Alright, good night then. Thanks again." She said, not adding what she was thanking him for because there was so much to thank him for.

Bri went to the bedroom he said was where she would be sleeping that night and looked around. It was a nice little apartment that certainly felt comfortable, at least she thought it would had she not been brought there under the circumstances she had been. The girl laid down in the bed there, trying so hard to get comfortable.

Her body was so tired that as soon as she found the right position, Bri couldn't keep her eyes open. However, they didn't stay that way for long. Now that she wasn't practically blacked out, she was dreaming. Images of books being thrown and knives and underclothing being torn off haunted her dreams, turning them to nightmares. After an hour she woke up to the sound of her own screams as she told the guy, who looked like a cross between Pierre and her boyfriend, to not come any closer to her naked and beaten body.
 
It wasn't a guy that had approached her at all, but Michelle, the woman whom had given her the room she had slept in that night. She had flicked the lights on with an extended finger, her hand still lingering across the plastic of the switch, palm brushing lightly against the sterile white walls of the room. The room was lit from above, three bulbs pointed in different direction from metal reflectors that hung from a lazily spinning ceiling fan, the room stuffy and warm. She hesitated in the door frame a few more moments, before she committed to entering the room, sitting at the food of her own bed as she did so. It was a large bend, a queen size mattress draped in deep purple bed sheets that peeked out from under a white fabric blanket, and an equally white comforter. She sunk into the soft down comforter, the air deflating from the piece.

"There... there..." she hushed to her, running a hand up and down her leg, trying to comfort her through the sheets that hung heavily on her form, plastered to her sweating body. "It's OK, no one is going to hurt you. You are OK. It was just a bad dream" she whispered to her again. Outside the double windows that lined the southern wall, lights begun to flicker on, people curiously gathering in lit windows, trying to discern where the sounds had come from in the quiet community.
 
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