I was completely frozen by her beauty.
“No, please… don’t!” I shouted, reaching out instinctively.
She froze—half-turned, one foot still on the edge of the barrier. The wind pulled at her clothes, her hair whipping across her face. Her eyes met mine, wide and frightened, like a deer caught in headlights.
“Just… calm down. Please,” I said, slowly raising my hands.
“You don’t understand. i--i--I’ve lost everything,” she said.
I took a cautious step closer.
“I know what it feels like… to want to let go. To believe there’s nothing left.” My voice cracked. “But you’re wrong. There’s always something left,” I whispered. “Just take my hand.”
She stared at me for a long second. Then—she stepped down. Barely. Her knees buckled, and I caught her by the shoulders. She didn’t lean into me, but she didn’t pull away either. She just stood there, trembling.
We sat down on the cold concrete, the weight of silence between us like a third person neither of us could face.
“What’s with the tattoos?” I asked gently, trying not to intrude but curious.
She looked down at them, tracing one with her fingertip.
“They’re supposed to make me strong,” she said with a soft, bitter laugh. “Stupid, right? As if some ink on my skin could fix everything inside me.”
Her voice trembled, but she kept talking.
“Each one… I got after something broke me. I thought maybe if I marked the pain, wore it like armor, it couldn’t hurt me anymore. But I don’t feel strong. Just… marked.”
She looked away, ashamed — as if she’d confessed something embarrassing.
“No. You’re wrong.” She turned to me, eyes tired, expecting judgment.
But I smiled.
“You’re strong because you survived it. Not because of the tattoos, but because you’re still here. Still standing. Still breathing.”
She stared at me for a moment — like she didn’t believe it, like no one had ever said that to her before.
A single tear slid down her cheek.
“By the way… do you know me?” she asked quietly.
I hesitated for a moment, then spoke honestly.
“Yeah, I used to be your classmate. I kept watching you,” I said softly.13Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡZmiULM65a0
“You’re quiet. Honest. Kind. But you know, good people are bound to be betrayed.”
I thought you were just like me — I never share pain. I hate myself for just accepting everything — just letting it happen. I want to fight back, but I don’t. I’m incompetent.
Once, I tried to commit suicide — but I was a coward. And I thought you would be like me — a coward. Then I realized I was wrong. You’re different. You’re brave. You can fix everything.
“You really think I can fix everything?” she said.
“Yes, you can — and you will.”
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