See

“You see? You’ll never be able to see me. Not really.” She gave a chuckle, his blood on her arm mixing with her own, the coppery tag the predominant smell permeating the air.

“Let me help you.” He reaches out his hand, stretching it out to hers. “Let me pull you up like you once did for me. You don’t have to be like this.”

She grasps his hand, dangling solely from his grip off the edge. “Like what? Like a villain?”

“Destructive. Self-destructive. Irrational. Hair-trigger temper. Violent.”

She gave him a deadpan look, piercing through her veneer of raging insanity. 

“Alright. Yeah. A villain.”

“A villain.” She repeats, musing, rolling the word on her tongue, tasting its connotations. “The villain. The villain of your story. And you’re breaking the rules. You want to save me.”

“Please. I swear it. I can save you. I will save you. Just let me.” He asks, a desperate begging and pleading tone to his voice. 

“You either die a hero or live to let yourself become the villain. At least that’s what they say.” She continues, not reacting to his pleas, simply continuing with her words, the world, and her surroundings falling back. “I disagree. When you get pushed down, you either get back up a hero, to get pushed down all over again, or you rise up a villain. See, that’s the thing about the word villain. It’s subjective. Am I the villain of your story? You see me as your damsel in distress.”

“And what do you see yourself as?” He asks, adding a second hand to his grip as he clips on a harness around her, pulling her up, but letting his muscles relax around her, just for a second, knowing she was safe. Gloating was therapeutic, he knew, so he let her continue with her speech. 

“I see myself as a power you cannot control, so in the infinite wisdom of human nature, you seek to either bring it under your wing or destroy it once and for all. I don’t see the world in terms of heroes and villains. I see it in terms of reality. And we don’t make the reality we live in. The reality we live in makes us.”

“I got you. You’re safe. How about I get you to the hospital and you can finish the philosophy on the way?” He asks, pulling her over the edge, to the strong and solid ground on his end. His voice is soft, smooth, and soothing, seeking to calm her down from her rage. 

“The reality we live in makes us, and so do the people in it. People are the lifeblood of the world. People can make you. It's people who can break you. And most of all, people control your destiny. I don’t believe in heroes and villains. I believe in my own desires. And I believe that when I go out, you’ll feel the bang. Everyone will. Always and forever.” She gives him a sweet smile that sends shivers down his spine, as he remembered the last time she had said that. “And you, my dear, can rest safely, in the peace that will never arrive.” He had been watching her face, anxious that she refused to move. He hadn’t noticed the harness she had cut, the buckle she had removed, the lock she had picked, and the clip she had undone. Her words were still ringing in his mind as she smiled, took a step back, and jumped. He felt it, not in his mind, but the deep, stabbing pain within his heart. He was a second too late, as he lunged for her, ignoring whether or not his own harness could hold him. His screams sounded faint to his ringing ears, and he could still see her, her unnaturally still body, her corpse, splattered onto the ground below, even though the tears streaming down his face, his hoarse throat, and his sweaty palms, unable to grasp the rope he was dangling from, unable to pull himself up, the sight of her burned into his mind, flashing in front of his eyes even as he forced himself to look away. There was nothing else he could see, no other image he could ever comprehend. HIs heart beat on, and even as he hated himself for it, his life was over. In all the ways that mattered, at least.

Even as sneakers skidded to a halt above and pulled him up, his body was limp, faint as he couldn’t get rid of the words ringing in his ears, the sound of her voice which would never taunt him again, the look on her face, peaceful, full of acceptance in her last moments, never to twist in a vicious snarl as he got a rise of her, never to smile so blindingly at him before stabbing him in the back. Never to love him or hate him, to kiss him or shoot him. She had been everything to him, his love and then his enemy, his greatest hope and his worst nightmare. But she was gone. And he was here. 

He didn’t hear his friends waving hands in front of his face. He only vaguely heard their worried exchange, only caught snippets, “why is he upset?” “she jumped.” “tried to save her.” “never let go.” He ignored them. They would never know what he knew. They would never feel as he felt. They would never understand the blinding truth of it. But he would. 

And he did. He remembered what she had said once; the memory bringing a smile to his face, looking slightly crazed, covered in both his own blood and hers. “The most dangerous people aren’t the ones that have everything to win, or the ones that have only to gain and nothing to lose. The most dangerous ones are the ones that have already given up on life. Who gave nothing to win and nothing to lose. Who broke rock bottom and sank even deeper. Because they’re going to be so unpredictable you’ll never know them as they know themselves.”

He remembered her words, and as tears and cries of anguish streamed from his face, he smiled for a brief moment. She was right, after all. He had never seen her coming.