I tried to kill myself.
And much like everything else in my life, it went wrong.
I woke up dead and broken. But not dead at all.
And not alone.
I want to go back. To the life that no longer seems as hopeless or as horrible as I thought it was. Even back to the man who wasn’t nearly as frightening as the one who’s now slowly inching his way across the room. Closer to me.
But I can’t go back. The door has been closed. The lock has turned. The key thrown away.
Now there’s just the dark. And the quiet. And the fear. And those eyes. And that touch.
He made me his angel. He became my God. And I don’t know if this is heaven or hell.