"WITH THE LIGHTS OUT IT'S A LITTLE LESS DANGEROUS, EVEN WITH A STRANGER NEVER GETS PAINLESS. DON'T BE AFRAID"
THEY said I wouldn't do it, Dill; couldn't. But who are they to arbitrate me for what I've done? Who are they to tell me that I have nothing to deride but myself? I don't need any kind of help, I never did! But you didn't listen, Dill. You couldn't have, what with all the evidence right in front of you, but this right here is evidence otherwise!
Well, nothing beats the taste of accomplishment on my lips, ripe and bittersweet. I want to feel like I've done myself a whole lot of good, like I've crossed barricades whose very whereabouts have eluded only a select few of the most vigilant and exploring human beings, that I am the first, the only. But I'm not. This path has been chosen before, has been walked only a thousand times before, and there's nothing I've done that hasn't been done before. I'm not the exception. I'm nothing different from the people that disappointed me, and if I AM not the same, it's because they had the power to survive, and carry on through the bad times, a unique yet common ability, one that I lacked, and if not, one that I misused, and if I didn't, one that I did not use at all.
When tragedy happens, you might be affected for a minute or two, for a moment and a time, but then you have to get on with your life, which has been making its steady way through the storm that occurred to set it off track. You have to move on; even though I didn't. One lesson that Anais Nin taught me: Never underestimate the power you have, the power given to you, bestowed upon you like a name onto a baby, your God given right. She has taught me; bless her soul, to live and to love, but not to love freely, and not to live without freedom.
I have not done her proud, I must admit. I have shamed her, and I am too ashamed to carry on with this narration, but I must. I MUST, you see, because standing here in the rain, the wind suffocating me in its unnatural grasp and the sound of fear emanating from my heart, threatening to block my ears, is much too much and much too overwhelming to disregard, so instead a distraction is necessary. And not only is this a distraction, Dill, but the truth.
Life… What is life? What am I now, compared to everyone around me, compared to the cats fleeing the scene and the birds calling out to their creator, drowning in the droplets escaping from the sky? Why did I have to live if I was going to meet an end anyway, and why did I have to enter into this world to meet people and love people and have them break my heart? Why did the good Lord, whom everyone is always praising, opt to abscond and leave me unaided when I needed his aid the most? And why did you leave me, Dill? Why didn't you stop me when you had the chance? I know you didn't know, but you should have listened to me, and known that I needed you, required your presence to preserve my mind.
Questions, questions. I tire of all these questions that burn my mind and envelop me in their uncertainty. If I meant to live, I shouldn't have given up hope when I hoped for the best. Now all I can see is the rain, coming down on my wounds, both invisible and not, pinching at my mistakes and reminding me of what I did, what I should never have considered and what I should never have tried to make undone by myself.
It all happened really quickly, you see. Much too quickly for me to decide whether I wanted to do it or not. I needed to leave, Dillan. I needed to go somewhere far, far away. Not just to the next state or continent. You see, Dillan, I needed to leave this world and all its complications, and go away; far, far away…with you.