chapter one: ivy martin.

I hate my life. Truly.

…

Okay, wait, that sounds a bit dramatic. It's not that I truly hate my life, just parts of it. I don't hate the few friends and family that I have, nor do I hate the time period that I live in. I don't hate that we have cars and accessible transportation, nor do I hate ice cream or pizza. Those things I do love about my life. The only things that matter to me, the little things that should only matter to me. And if I put all my focus on those little things then maybe I'll enjoy my life wholeheartedly. Just maybe.

But maybes are only in stories.

"What do you mean that you didn't complete the presentation? Are you fucking stupid?"

I bite my lip, willing myself not to flinch or to look away. Not like I want to look away, because if I try to avoid the angry eyes boring down at me, I'll meet the twenty pairs of eyes watching in fear. Fear of what will happen to me, fear of what will happen to them if these angry eyes look in their direction. Though, I'm sure that everyone else will be fine, it's me who I need to worry about.

You see, while I don't hate the few good things in my life, I do hate one thing. Truly and deeply. And it's my job. A typical office job that I've had for at least three years now, the same job that I go to Monday through Friday from 8 in the morning to 5 in the evening. Sometimes, we get out later depending on the workload which is always a lot. It's so much that sometimes it feels like I'm swimming through gallons of paperwork and emails. Though, while it's a lot, it's not enough to make me hate coming into work. Hell, it's not even my own coworkers who make me hate work. But there is one person who makes me hate it all and want to resign.

My supervisor, a large older man with algae green eyes and a bald spot that he tries to cover up with a blonde wig. He puts on a daily mask of being a good supervisor who cares about his subordinates, a man who you and higher ups can trust. But really he's just a greedy man who pushes his work onto other people and then steals all the credit for himself. He's rude, yells constantly, and stubborn. He's an old man who doesn't take no as an answer and wants everything to go his way at all times. When I first joined this company and this specific division, I remember shaking my head and believing that I could trust this teddy bear looking man. Now I look back at my younger self for how foolish and dumb I was.

He loves to yell at us, whether it's because of a minor mistake that we did or a mistake that he made but refuses to take ownership of. Almost everyone in our division has been chewed out by this man, myself included. While I don't remember the mistake I caused, I do remember how pathetic and worthless that he made me feel, and the tears that ran down my cheeks when I was in the safety of my apartment. I vowed to never make a mistake ever again, we all did. And I was doing a good job of staying on his good side, well, until now.

"I'm sorry, sir," I say, breathing in and out to ease my racing heart. "I was working on another task given to me and was nearing the end of it, so I didn't want to stop—"

"Excuses, excuses!" He shouts, his voice bouncing off the walls. "If I send you something then that means you need to do it right away, all emails and direct orders from me should be yours, and everyone's, top priority. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir—"

"Because I don't think you understand." Then why ask? God, this guy… He takes a step closer to me and on instinct, I take a step back. Not like I wanted to! But that doesn't matter because it only adds more to his anger, I can see it in his eyes that have turned a murky color. "I needed that presentation to be completed before my meeting with the other team leads. And today is our division's day to update everyone on what's going. But now that can't happen because we don't have a fucking presentation because you decided to ignore my fucking email. Because of you, now everyone is going to think that we're a bunch of slackers who can't even do their work on time. Because of you, the other divisions will look down on our division, on your coworkers. Because of you, everyone will think that the people in here can't be trusted with anything. Do you truly understand what you did wrong and how it'll affect everyone here?"

I want to scream and yell back, tell him that it's not my fault at all. That it's his own fault for waiting until the last minute to make the presentation and to push it onto another person. I want to tell him that none of my coworkers would blame me for this, that they all know that I'm not at fault for what's going on. Hell, I expect for at least one person to speak out, to tell him to shut up or to even ease his anger so he'll get off my back.

But no one says a thing. It's all silent and all eyes are on me, waiting. So I look around, let my eyes flicker from side to side to see, to check if there's someone, anyone who would have my back. However, there's not a single person who tries to open their mouths or who shakes their heads in disgust. They're all motionless, mouths sealed shut, and emotions in their eyes that I can't make out. Hell, I even look at the woman next to me, my friend who has been with me since my first day. Elizabeth or Lizzie for short. The two of us started working at the company on the same day and instantly became friends. We would get lunch together, dinner, and drinks at each other's respective homes. Only knowing each other for three years, it feels like we've known each other since we were babies.

Just like anyone else in our division, Lizzie hates our supervisor with a burning passion. Hates how he yells, how lazy he is, and how he takes credit for all of our hard work. Someone should really stand up against that guy and get his ass fired, she said once, tipsy or drunk. I have no idea seeing that I was drunk myself. Honestly, if no one else will then I'll do it myself! I'll get that old fucker a piece of my mind.

And I believed her too because Lizzie is just that tough and cool. She's a nice and fair person but most importantly… she's my friend who will always have my back. So of course, I'm expecting her to help me. No, I know that she'll help me because that's what Lizzie does. That's what we do for each other because we're friends.

Though, when I make direct eye contact with her, she's silent and motionless just like everyone else. Her lips are in a tight thin line, hands balled into a fist on her lap. She looks like she wants to do something, which is more than others, but it's not enough. So I plead, beg for help, for her to get me out of this situation because she's a hero, Lizzie the great that I like to call her. But she doesn't get the message, or maybe she does because she rejects me by looking away.

I hear the sound of my heart breaking and all hope leaving my body.

"I'm sorry, sir," I say weakly, completely defeated. "I-I can work on it now. Have it finished within twenty— no, ten minutes! Just let me—" I reach down for my keyboard and mouse, ready to open the email and start working before he stops me, his hands grabbing hold of my right wrist and pulling me upwards.

"As if I'll let you do that, you've already failed me, I refuse to let you fail me for a second time." I go limp and he lets go, my arm falling onto my lap. "There's no need for you to stay for the rest of the day."

My head whips upwards as I stare at him. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that I don't want you here today. Go home and reflect on what you did wrong. The sight of you is starting to piss me off and I really don't want to look at you anymore." He looks at Lizzie. "I'm assigning you with the task of completing the presentation. Have it done in twenty minutes and send it to me." With that, he looks away from all of us and walks into his private office.

It's still silent, no one moves nor do they say anything. They're waiting, waiting for me to do something, to throw things or to cry. Whatever. They're just… waiting for me.

And I hate it so much.

"Hey, Ivy." It's Lizzie. "Ivy, are you—"

She places a hand on top of mine and I snatch it away, not even looking in her direction. I refuse to look at her. I refuse to talk to her or anyone for that matter. I quickly log out of my computer, pick up my purse, jacket, and I briskly walk out of our division's office. I can feel them, the tears that try to break free, the scream that tries to escape from my body, the urge to punch a wall or to knock something over and watch it break into a thousand pieces like my heart.

I don't wait for the elevator, I take the stairs down, taking the pain of walking down three flights over being in a small space with more people. Once on the first floor, I'm out the door, not even giving the receptionist the chance to say bye. It's still raining, has been since early this morning and it hasn't even let up. It continues to pour and with no umbrella to protect myself (left it in my sister's car), the raindrops attack me and drench me completely. I don't even care unlike this morning, what's there to care about? Nothing matters, not after what happened in the office.

It takes me two minutes to walk to my car and once inside with the doors locked, I lose it. I scream, I cry, and hit my door and steering wheel. I yell so loudly that I wonder if anyone nearby hears me, I yell so loudly that I hope my coworkers hear my cries. That it'll make them feel bad for not having my back, for Lizzie to realize that she's in the wrong and that's not as cool and tough as she claims to be. Or how I picture her to be.

After five or so minutes of crying, I put my keys into the ignition, start the car, put it into drive, and pull out the parking lot. I want nothing more than to be away from this company and the people who occupy it, I just want the comfort of my apartment, a warm shower, and dry clothes. I want comfort and to be safe and the only way I can achieve that is by being home.

Where I am loved and wanted, even if that love only comes from my sister.

The two of us have always been together since we were kids, inseparable despite the many arguments we got into with each other. She's my best friend and I'm her's, it's just like that. Even when I graduated from college and started looking for a job, my sister came to me saying that we should move in together. She always felt more comfortable with having me close by and I guess she wanted to be back with me. I could understand, I always felt more comfortable with her close to me.

So we started living together, this time as two adult women with our own jobs and friends. And while we would miss seeing each other in the morning or at night, we still tried to make time for sister bonding time. Which was either the two of us watching a movie or me watching her play some random video game. I'm not a gamer but there was always something nice about watching another person game that made me feel… good on the inside.

And in this moment, I would love to watch her play whatever obscure game that she owns.

Pulling into my apartment's lot, I quickly park my car and get out. It's not raining as hard, thank God, but I'm still soaked and want out of these clothes. Walking to my apartment door, I unlock it and open the door, expecting to be met with a quiet and empty space only to hear familiar groaning and cursing.

"Iris?" I say, locking the door and kicking my shoes off. Why isn't she at work?

She picks her head up, eyes going wide when she sees me. "Ivy! You're home early." A pause, Iris looking down at her phone with furrowed eyebrows before looking up at me. "You're home early. Why?"

I crack a small smile. "Just felt like leaving early, that's all."

She doesn't believe me, I can see it on her face. "Well, since you're here… want to watch me play this new game that I got?"

I place my purse on coatrack alongside my jacket, both heavy and soaking wet. "Sure but let me shower first. I'm wet and freezing."

"Sure, take your time. I'll still be here."

Of course she will be. Iris goes back to her game and I head straight for the bathroom. Flicking the lights on, I can finally look at myself in the mirror. My eyes are still red and puffy, even my nose is a light shade of red, and my tight curls cling to my head. I look a mess, feel like one too. Hopefully, this shower will make me feel more alive and just a bit better.

. . .

"See, I'm not surprised about your supervisor, I've always hated that guy but Lizzie? Dude, what the fuck?"

After a twenty minute shower and putting on some warm pjs, I'm sitting on the couch beside Iris and a cup of tea sitting on the table that she made for me. I wasn't going to tell her about what happened at work but there's no secrets between sisters, that, and I just really needed to let my frustration out. And of course, always having my back, Iris is just as upset as I am, probably even more upset as she angrily presses the buttons on her controller. "Isn't she basically your best friend? Why didn't she have your back?"

I shrug. "I don't know, maybe she was scared."

Iris scoffs. "Lizzie, scared? You mean the same chick who threatened to punch that guy in the throat when he was bothering you on your birthday? The same Lizzie?"

Yes, that same Lizzie who has demonstrated being tough and cool. Though, now I'm starting to wonder if she's more talk than bite. "It doesn't matter, I'm just—" I sigh, leaning my head back on the armrest. "Tired. Of that company, of my supervisor, of everything. I'm just so… tired of it all."

She doesn't say anything, just nods her head as she continues with her game. I look at the screen too, finally giving it some attention since I came into the living room. It's another one of those cartoon games, no, anime games. I think, I don't know, I can never keep track of it all. I do know that the game is a lot more girly and cute than the usual horror and fighting games that Iris plays. I was hoping to watch her kill a terrifying monster when I came into here, not watch her talk to people and go to balls.

"What even is this?"

"It's an otome game."

"A what now?"

"It's a dating simulation game. It's basically where you play as this girl and try to fall in love with different types of men, or women, depending on the game. This one just has two love interests, a prince and a knight," she explains. "The options aren't as overwhelming as other games but I still can't choose between the two. They're both handsome and charming, like, they're making me wish that they were real." She sighs. "Why can't 3D men be as amazing as 2D men?"

I snort. "Yeah, can't relate to that problem."

"Of course you can't, you're not into guys," Iris says. "Maybe I'll get you a lesbian otome game."

I rather not, I think but don't say. Even if I tell her, Iris would still buy it for me, thinking that I'll like it. Sorry to her but I'm not a gamer, even if the game includes hot women.

We're silent again, no full conversations are had as she continues to game and I try to watch her. I'm trying to find some interest in the game but it's boring, to me at least. I keep waiting for something dramatic to happen or for someone to flip a table. But all I see is the main character exploring some castle, talking to some old dude, and meeting the two love interests. And these guys are attractive, they would have to be if you want your fans to fall in love with them. Just to mess with Iris, I would purposely suggest for her to select the wrong answer and she would shush me in response. I laugh and she rolls her eyes, she loves me even when I'm annoying her.

There's an urge to grab my phone and to get on Twitter or Instagram, just to do something. But the idea of checking my phone makes me sick because I know, I just know, that Lizzie has been blowing my phone up. So it sits in my room, far away from me and hopefully dead.

Still watching the game, I notice a woman pop up. "Who's that?"

"Oh, her." Iris doesn't sound too excited. "That's the villainous of the game. She's the childhood best friend of the two guys and said to be the prince's fiancé."

"She's cute."

Iris scoffs. "Of course you would say that but she's evil. Totally bad, wants my character dead type of bad."

I shrug. "Okay, who cares if she's evil? I love evil women."

"You have serious issues, you know that right?"

We both laugh this time. Iris' gaming continues, I somewhat watch her before switching to a nearby book. It's perfect and calm in our apartment, the rain that had added to my terrible day was making it a lot better now. I'm beginning to feel a lot better and grateful for my sister being here. While I don't know why she's home and not at work, I don't try to ask her. Something bad probably happened to her too and she's trying to avoid talking about it, I totally get it and don't want her to think about it.

The hours go by and it's dark outside. It's still raining but not as hard. I'm almost done with my book and Iris has made it to a halfway point of her game. She pauses the game and leans back, stretching her arms. "Hey, what are you in the mood for tonight?"

"Uh." Placing the still opened book on the table, I lightly drum my leg. "How about takeout? I haven't had that in a while."

"Okay, let's get takeout." Iris stands up and heads for the front door. I stand up, ready to join her until she shakes her head. "You stay here, I can go get it. You want your usual order?"

I nod. "Perfect," she says, slipping on her shoes and jacket. "I'll be back in a bit and oh— don't touch my game! Actually, touch it now and save it for me. Just in case something happens."

"Can do."

"Don't miss me too much!"

"Don't worry, I won't!"

She gets her keys and purse and then she's gone, the door slamming behind her. I save her game for her, the process only taking a few seconds. Easy enough, I think as I set down the controller. Now I'm left with nothing to do and no one to talk to.

I hate this. I really, really hate this.

I'm not sure if seconds or minutes have gone by of me just sitting there, listening to the sound of the rain. My feelings and thoughts from earlier bubble up, waiting for the perfect moment to break free. There's the urge to ugly cry again, to curl into a ball now that I'm finally alone. But I refuse to let that happen, I don't want to cry anymore over that damn job and my "friend". Though, I am curious. About what was said after I left, if Lizzie felt bad, if she texted or called me.

While I'm sure that she texted me, I'm also afraid to see if it's true or not. But I do need my phone, just in case Iris texts or calls, so I get up and head straight for my room.

My phone is sitting on my bed and when I clicked the power button, it lights up. And there waiting for me are text messages. Some from my coworkers, a few from our work group chat, a text from Iris about my umbrella, and then a bunch from Lizzie. She also called me, of course she did. The guilt must be eating her alive. Good.

I unlock my phone and open my messages with Lizzie.

Lizzie: Ivy? Are you okay?

Lizzie: Ivy, please, answer your phone

Lizzie: I'm sorry that I didn't say anything but you know that I couldn't

Lizzie: Please answer me

Lizzie: Or at least let me know that you're okay or something

Lizzie: Why aren't you answering your phone?

Lizzie: Ivy, girl, come on. Don't do this to me

Lizzie: I'm sorry, Ivy, just please… talk to me

Lizzie: I tried texting your sister but she's not answering, Ivy, please

Lizzie: Ivy. Please.

I want to laugh, no, I do laugh. It's short, awkward, and dry. The situation isn't funny at all but I can only laugh. Because if I don't laugh then I'll cry and I don't want to. I can't as I hit the call button under her name. I refuse to let Lizzie hear me cry, not this time and probably not anymore.

She picks up after the first ring. "Ivy! This is you right?"

"Yeah, it's me," I say. "Wanted to call you so you know that I'm fine and that I'm home."

"That's good! That's… really good."

It's awkward, neither of us are able to say anything. Not like I want to say something, it's Lizzie who's the one with a lot to say. "So, uh, I finished the presentation. Everything is alright now," Lizzie says. I frown at the thought of the presentation. "The meeting went smoothly, I was told, our division is all good. And uh… you do know that none of us blame you for that. Not having the presentation done. It's not like we knew about the meeting in the first place, or that he didn't have the presentation ready."

"Yeah." It definitely felt like everyone was blaming me, especially if the meeting would've ended in a disaster. "I'm glad you were able to."

"Yeah." Another moment of silence and I'm starting to grow sick of the silence. "Look… the stuff I sent you earlier… I meant it when I said that I was— no, that I am sorry. I didn't have your back when you needed me and that was so shitty of me. Like, that was a shitty thing to do and I'm your friend."

Lizzie is like my best friend actually but I don't correct her. If she doesn't say it then I won't either. I hum as I hear someone at the door. Iris is back already? Huh, there must've been no one else at the restaurant. A win for us honestly.

"Look, I can talk to our supervisor tomorrow o-or I can help you with reporting him! The fact that he tried to push his work onto you and then humiliated you for a mistake that he made… it's just not right and you deserve better," Lizzie says. "I didn't have your back today when I was supposed to so let me fix that. I'll have your back now and forever."

I crack a small smile, though, I shouldn't have done that. Lizzie doesn't deserve that, even if I'm honored by her gesture. "Thanks, Lizzie." Beat. "Look, I'm gonna hang up. Iris is home and she got us food."

"Oh, okay! Yeah, go ahead and eat and uh, tell Iris that I said hi? And I'll… see you at work tomorrow?"

I nod. "Yeah, see you at work tomorrow."

I hang up the phone and sigh deeply. At least Lizzie feels bad and says that she'll have my back tomorrow, though, we'll see if she actually means that. Who knows, she'll probably switch up and do the complete opposite, it's something she would do to me.

I shake my head, no more thinking about this. It's time to eat takeout with my sister and watch her complete her silly romance game. That's all I need right now, then tomorrow… tomorrow I can think about what I'm going to do next.

Walking out of my bedroom, I head straight for the living room. "That was quick," I say, still looking down at my phone. "I thought that it would've taken you longer to get—" I look up and I don't spot Iris. "… here. Iris?" I don't see her nor do I see the food. What the hell?

Something doesn't feel right so I text Iris.

Me: hey, did you walk in and leave? what, did you forget something again?

Iris: ???????

Iris: girl wtf are you talking about

Iris: i'm still waiting for our food

"Huh?" I say. "That doesn't make sense, I swear that I heard the door—" And when I realize my mistake, it's too late.

I'm pushed to ground from behind, my forehead hitting the carpet hard and my phone pressed into my stomach as I lay on top of it. I try to move but I'm unable to, the weight above me is a lot heavier than my own body weight and with zero strength in legs or arms, I can't get this person off of me. But that doesn't stop me from thrashing and kicking at this individual. I'll do anything to get them off of me.

"You're not the one I'm looking for but you look like her," the person says, voice deep and slimy. A man, a slimy and gross man. "You must be her mother, no, her sister. Wow, you're just as pretty as her."

"Get the fuck off of me!" I shout but he doesn't move, not even as I kick and scream. But he does push my head into the carpet, muffling my voice.

"Shut up already! The more you kick and scream, the longer this will take and I don't want that to happen. I just want to make this real quick and easy, just… trust me."

I don't trust him, I can't trust someone who breaks into my home and tackles me to the ground. I can't trust someone who tells me that I'm not who he's looking for but that I look like her. Iris. He was probably looking for Iris but instead he found me. Just my luck huh?

But at least it's me and not my sister, I wouldn't want for her to be in the same position as me.

He does flip me over, though he doesn't get off of me. I can see his face and even though I want to memorize it, I can't. It's too blurry and dark in the room. There are tears in my eyes and my hands are shaking, I'm scared. Scared of what he'll do, what he was going to do to Iris. But I do see the gross smile he gives me and the way his free hand runs down my arms and to my hands. He snatches the phone from my grip and tosses it. "You won't be needing that."

I open my mouth, ready to ask what he was going to do but nothing comes out. Not even a scream or a curse, I'm silent. Too shaken up with fear to do anything. How pathetic is that? I can't stand up to my supervisor at work and I can't stand up to this slimy guy?

I hate this, I really, really, really hate this.

No. No, no, no! I may hate this situation and my job but I can't keep letting guys like this get away with shit like this. Using whatever strength I can muster up, I knee the guy's crotch. He groans in pain, some of the weight leaving my body as he focuses on the pain that hit his crotch. Yelling, I start fighting back. I knee him, I kick, and I even throw punches when he lets go of my hands. It seems futile but it works, the guy falling off of me and to the ground beside me. Despite the fear that I feel deep in my chest, I push myself up and quickly dial 911. I need help to get here right away, I need someone to catch this guy before he does anything else to me or my sister if she shows up.

After the first ring, the operator picks up and before she can say anything else, I'm already spilling everything to her. The fact that someone has broken into my house and that he attacked me, I let it all out. Though, when I'm about to tell her my address, I don't notice the man standing up and him hitting me. I feel it though, my phone falling to the ground as I stagger, pain shooting throughout the back of my head. That fucker.

He grabs the back of my shirt and throws me to the other side of the room. But I don't let that stop me from screaming again, "Help! Someone broke into my apartment and is attacking me!"

I hope that the operator hears me, either way, I know that it pisses off my attacker and causes him to panic. I can see it in his eyes that are both fiery and resemble someone who's ready to cry. It makes me grin. "You fucking bitch!" A kick is sent to my side, my grin dropping and curses slipping past my lips. "How dare you call someone! Are you fucking insane?"

Each sentence is paired with a kick and each kick makes me curse and cry in pain. When he stops, I can't even get up, the pain keeps me grounded. It hurts so much, both from my aching heart from earlier and my aching body. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts! Tears roll down my cheeks but not a single sound leaves my lips. Even though I want to scream and shout, to tell the heavens that I'm in pain, I couldn't give this guy any more satisfaction of seeing me like this.

He's heaving and smirking as he stares down at my body. What a fucking creep. "You should wipe that look off your face," I say, weakly. "Soon, the police are gonna get here and throw your ass in jail." I try to smile but I'm sure that it looks a mess. "I wonder how long your sentence will be for breaking into a person's apartment and attacking them."

My attacker grits his teeth and stomps on my head. "Shit!" I say. I try to use my free hand to move his foot but he doesn't budge, just pushes down even more on my hand. This fucking guy!

"You talk so much for a bitch who can't even fight back," he says through clenched teeth. "You even called the cops on me! Are you fucking insane?"

Actually you're the insane one, I think but don't say. I just want him off my hand. He finally gets off and despite the deep ache in my hand, I sigh in relief. "You're not even the one that I want, what am I gonna do…" Says my attacker as he continues to pace above me, nervously biting on his fingernails.

It stings. My ego. I'm already not having a good day and just got attacked by some random person, only for him to say that I'm not the one that he wants? It stings, my ego, my pride, my entire body. Everything aches and I want to cry and scream out to the world. For how much I hate it, how I hate my life, how I don't deserve this. None of it!

But Iris also doesn't deserve this. The guy was looking for her, he wanted me to be her, he wanted to throw her to the ground, and… I can't even finish the thought. Even the simple fantasy that this could've been my sister makes me sick. I may hate my life but I'm a bit… happy that it's me and not her. I wouldn't want my little sister to deal with this guy.

And I'm sure that he's still plotting to go after her. That if he slips out now and gets away from the cops, he'll be able to catch her. Whether it's later tonight or a different day, I can see the wheels turning his head as he plots. As if I'll let his plan work out, I think. I gotta stop him.

And there's an idea, a very stupid and reckless one, but still a plan. One that will ensure Iris' safety and as for mine… let's just hope that the cops get here in enough time.

So I chuckle. It starts off low and quiet before it fills the entire living room. My attacker stops his pacing and muttering as he stares down at me. "What are you laughing at?"

"You," I say. "Just the look of you makes me laugh. Like, look at you, you're pacing around, muttering, and biting on your fucking nails like some loser." The corner of my lips tweak upwards. "You just scream 'pathetic' and 'little bitch'. My God, you even failed to get the girl that you wanted!" I laugh again, louder despite the pain I felt in my stomach. "What a fucking loser."

I watch him carefully. I watch how he bites down on his thumb, how his right eye twitches, and how he slowly taps his foot. I hit a nerve, a bunch of them hopefully. I hurt his pride (and his balls), it's only time until he retaliates. Either by kicking or stomping on me, he'll curse at me, call me names, call me a bitch for calling him names. And each physical and mental attack, I'll take it. I'll grit my teeth and hold back my tears, just long enough to keep him occupied and focused on me.

Hopefully within minutes, the police will arrive and throw him into jail. I'll take the abuse if it guarantees him a trip to jail.

And I almost smile when he glares down at me because I know that my plan is working. That this idiot will be thrown in jail and me watching it all happen. Until he reaches into his pocket and I know that something is wrong.

A knife. This entire time he had a knife on him. To say that I'm not scared shitless would be a lie. Anyone would be scared if they saw it too. No matter how strong a person is mentally or physically, a knife of any kind will have their heart racing.

The guy doesn't even take notice of my fear, and if he does, he doesn't show it. He clutches the knife with both hands, holding right above my chest. The look in his eyes is a combination of fear and anger, a very bad combination when the person in question is holding a weapon. "I'm tired of people like you," he says. "Calling me a loser, pathetic, a little… bitch." He spits the words out as if they're poisonous, and to him, they probably are. "You're all fucking wrong!"

He plunges the knife straight into my chest, punctuating the end of his sentence with an attack. I scream out, my hands shooting upwards to try and stop him. I try to push at his hands, to push his head, or to push his arms but nothing works. Not as he twists the blade in my chest and my hands that won't stop shaking from the sudden action and pain. Tears run down my face, sliding down my cheeks and into my thick curls. "Stop it!" I scream, though he ignores me.

The guy just pulls the knife out and seconds later, sends it back into my chest. He does this again and again as he rambles, his words mixing with the stabbing sounds. "You're. All. Wrong! All of you are wrong! I'm not pathetic or a loser, I'm creative and deserve love. But none of you can understand that, none of you will understand that because you're unlovable."

By the third stab, I lose the strength to fight back, exhausted from being attacked minutes before and now stabbed in the chest. It's becoming harder to remain awake, my eyes growing heavy by the seconds, but I push myself to stay awake. I have to, I can't lose sight of him or else it'll be over. I just need to wait for help to come and then I'll be fine.

He stops at the fifth stab, leaving the knife in my chest. The guy is breathing heavily above me, blood covering the bottom half of his shirt and hands. "The only person who understands me… is Iris. She's the only one here who understands me, who gets me. She's the only one who deserves love and I'll be the one to love her."

Ah, so that's it… Iris showed this guy a bit of kindness and he grew attached. Of course.

"Iris will never… love someone like you," I say weakly. "You're… just as unlovable… as the rest of us. She'll never, ever, want you."

He bites down hard on his bottom lip, his hand reaching for the knife before closing around it. He yanks it out, raises it above his head, and sends it back into my chest. This time higher than his previous stab wounds. Another yell leaves my lips, my hands twitching before going limp. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, I shout in my head, losing the energy to cry out loud.

I really should've kept my big mouth shut.

He stands up, leaving the knife embedded in my body. His head is tilted towards me but I can't see the look in his eyes. My vision is blurry, I can only see the outline of his body. There's even a ringing in my ears that drowns out everything else. I try to reach for what I think is his foot but the guy only kicks it away like I'm a rag doll. If it didn't hurt to do anything, I would've laughed at the action. Am I the pathetic one now? Because I surely feel pathetic.

The guy says something but I can't hear him, the ringing grows louder and louder in my ears. He then steps completely over me, going to the front door. I can't even do anything to stop him, all I can do is watch as he leaves, door still wide open as he disappears through the rain. There's a part of me that hopes that the police is outside, ready to come in and save me. But they'll stop, seeing a suspicious man leaving the door wide open. There's hope that they'll call out to him, ask him what's he doing, and if he tries to run, they'll tackle him to the ground and arrest them. There's hope that a police officer will run into my apartment, see me bleeding on the ground, and call for help. An ambulance will come and whisk me away to a hospital where they'll quickly treat me. You know, like what they do in those medical TV shows and books. They'll arrest the criminal and save the victim, there's hope of a happy ending.

But today isn't my day and while a part of me is hopeful, I'm filled with pessimism. There's doubt and anxiety that covers the hopefulness like a wool blanket. I can't hear the "there's hope" and "maybe's", I can only hear the overpowering voice that tells me that I'm going to die.

You're unlucky.

You won't survive this.

Do you think you're the main character of a novel? You're going to die.

You're pitiful.

You're so stupid, this is your fault for pushing him.

You should've kept your mouth shut.

Why did you walk out of your room? You did this to yourself.

You should've stayed in place and not check out the noise.

You're going to die because you're an idiot.

A fool.

A pathetic fool

An unlucky, pathetic fool.

Tears stream down my cheeks, flowing slowly before streaming at an alarming rate. I cry out, calling for help, calling for the police to worry about me and not the guy. I can't die, I don't want to die, I have to survive. I need to survive.

I cry for the police, I cry for my sister, I cry for Lizzie, hell, I cry for my father. I cry for someone to hear me, to save me and assure me that I won't die. To tell me that I can't die, that it's not allowed.

And while being an unlucky, pathetic fool, someone does come inside. Two police officers rush inside. I can't see either of their faces nor can I hear them talking. It's becoming harder to see and the ringing is becoming louder in my ears. Is this what death feels like? An anxiety inducing moment where you're unable to focus on anything except for your impending doom? Even when there's someone trying to help you, you can't help but to panic and worry if they can genuinely help you. I mean, they're police officers after all, not actual medics. What can they do to save me?

One of the officers sits beside me, a woman, who says something to me. I can't hear her, though, I'm not putting in the effort to try. I'm already giving up, accepting the fact that I cannot be saved, that no one can save me.

Until I think of Iris. I think of how we've been together since she was born, that I'm the only family that she has who gives a damn about her. And I think of that guy who was looking for and how this could've been her. I can't die, I can't leave my little sister like this.

So I reach for the other woman, gripping tightly to her pants as I find the strength to speak. "Please… I don't want to die. I can't die, please," I croak, tears flowing into my mouth. "Please help me…"

Her eyebrows raise and she looks up, focuses on her partner, and mouth moving as she tells him something. She's probably telling him to get help quickly because I need it desperately.

With each passing second, my eyes grow heavier and my breathing unsteady. I try to stay awake. I think of Iris and not wanting to leave her behind. But no matter how hard I try… it all feels like a waste. So I start praying, something I never do, for God to help me. I pray for God to take pity on me and that if I do fall asleep, that I'll wake up in a hospital with Iris sleeping at my side. I pray, no, beg that he gives me the chance to be a better older sister who can protect her sister with no problem. I beg that he looks my way and grants my prayer.

I'm pathetic, I know, to cling onto a man who probably doesn't exist. But I'm desperate and don't deserve this. I don't deserve to die, Iris doesn't deserve a stalker who attacks her older sister, hell, I didn't even deserve what happened earlier today! I didn't deserve my supervisor humiliating me, I didn't deserve my coworkers ignoring my pain, and I didn't deserve my supposed best friend ignoring my call for help.

It's unfair, I don't deserve any of this! I deserve better, a second chance, for God or whoever to hear my prayers and to help me. I deserve to LIVE!

The woman says something again but I still can't hear her, hell, I can barely see her lips and figure out what she's saying. I just roll my head to the other side, looking away from her and her partner. There, I see it. Iris' game that's still on despite everything that happened. It's the only thing that I can see that reminds me of my sister, the pause screen illuminating the dark room. I want to laugh that the lives of all of these characters are put on pause while mine comes to an end.

So even those who aren't real get a happy ending while I don't.

I want to laugh but I no longer have the will or strength to do so.

Just before my eyes flutter shut, I see it. The screen changes. It's the only thing that I can see clear as day. Would you like to start over?

Huh? Am I seeing things? Has it always said this or is this a sign that I'm dying? Why me, why me, why me?

Or maybe it's a sign from God, that he heard my prayer and is giving me the chance to start over. So he does exist and is real!

I'm desperate and want a second chance, so I take it. Using the last bit of energy, I let out a soft "yes" as I succumbed to the darkness. I'm alone, numb, and cold but hopeful. Because I'm desperate and foolish enough to believe that God is real and that he heard me.

Then it happens. A voice that surrounds me, that brings me warmth and comfort. Your prayer has been heard. Following the voice is a flashing light that I barely make out before it becomes hard to ignore. It soon envelops the darkness and soon enough me.

My chance at a second life starts now--