(inspired by the Rise trailer and okh-eshivar's artwork On tumblr)

You're sitting there, with your knee bouncing in an erratic rhythm. The stains on your clothing are dark red going on brown and you're hiding in your hood like the world can't find you there. I don't know what you've been doing, or who you've hurt. Getting closer to you I see the knife in your hands. You're holding the point against the palm of your hand, and twisting the blade back and forth. Your knuckles are bruised, and you don't look at me. You never look at me anymore.

It's like everything has finally caught up to you. You don't hold me in your sleep anymore. My arm aches from the bruises you left, but the look on your face when you realized you were hurting me stung more.

"Lara…"

You don't seem to hear me. I don't know who you are any more. I need you, I need you like I need water to live and you're too far away to reach. I watch that knife drill into your hand and I'm helpless.

I touch your shoulder. It's stupid, it's dangerous when you're like this and when I blink the knife is at my throat. But you see me. You finally see me for the first time all night. Your eyes sharpen, as though the haze in front of them has lifted. You pull away, but I grab your wrist and hold you tight. It's not like you couldn't break my grip. You're stronger than me.

Your eyes follow the droplets of blood that run down the knife. I know what you're thinking. You could slit my throat in an instant. Even on accident, if you try to fight me. You say my name. Despair and self-loathing and you've given up and you've given up and that scares me. Your grip on the knife loosens, and I take it away from you. My neck stings, but I ignore it. You're not ignoring it, you're still staring at it, even as I lift your hand to look at the cut in your palm. It's deep, and it looks like you've been doing this to yourself for awhile. I'm an idiot, I think. How could I have missed this?

"I'm sorry." Your voice is a whisper and I don't know what to say or do that will keep you from leaving me. I know you. I know you better than anyone, I know you better than I know myself and I don't know who you are anymore.

"It's okay. I know you don't mean it."

"I'm going to hurt you. I have, hurt you! What if it gets worse what if…!" Your free hand touches the cut on my neck, and you look at the blood, slick on your fingers. "I can't see people as anything but prey anymore. I close my eyes and I'm back there again. I close my eyes and I'm going to lose you and nothing matters any more."

Helplessly, I open my mouth, and then I close it again.

"I feel like even you're giving up on me. And if you give up on me, than who will I be?"

"You could get help," I say, for the hundredth time. You refuse. You always refuse. You're not crazy, you say, you're not, but sweetie, we've both lost our minds, I'm just the only one willing to admit it. "Please. It helps. It really does. Even if it won't seem like it at first."

"Why?" You wipe your hand on your sweater. I still can't tell if the blood is yours or someone else's and something inside me tightens up a little. I want to clean you up, take care of you, tell you I love you. "What's the bloody point?"

What's the point? What's the fucking point? I don't think I can take this anymore. I must be gaping at you because you recoil. When I grab your wrist you tense, your muscles coiling. You're like an animal, one that's trapped and broken and pushed to the edge and maybe this will be the time you actually hit me. "The only one who can help you is you! I've tried and I've tried and you push me away like I don't mean a goddamn thing! If you want to push me away then it's working! But I'm still here. Do you think Roth died so you could lose yourself? So you could turn into a monster? Do you think I almost became possessed twice for that? Do you have any idea how I can't sleep at night, knowing that everything you've gone through is my fault and you're not even there any more to make it all better! What you're doing, what you mean to me, you don't even understand what you're doing to us!"

Your grip is so strong, and you're so fast that my back is against the wall before I realize you've moved. Your lips are so close to mine that I can taste them. Tears run down my cheeks like burning rivers and your face is just as wet. "You have no right!"

"I'm not wrong. Roth wouldn't want to see you like this either." I don't care anymore. No, that's a lie. I care, I care too much, I just don't know if I have the willpower left. Words aren't working, or I'm just not saying the right ones. I'm going to lose you in the next few minutes, so the only thing I can think of to do is kiss you.

Your shock registers in the way you stiffen. I half expect you to bite me, or to shove away from me, but instead you press into me. Your lips are hesitant and shaky, and it only takes a few moments before the shaking reaches your shoulders, and then your legs. We slide to the ground, my arms around you, and you break the kiss as the first painful sob comes out of your throat.

I pull your head down against my chest. You make another sound, and then another, a soft, muffled wail into my breast. You've been holding in all your pain and all your anger and all your fears and one kiss wore away the fragile wall you'd built. I lean my head back against the wall, looking up at the stars as you shudder against me.

You're going to be embarrassed later. We'll probably laugh it off. But I know you haven't let yourself feel any of this until now. And I know I'm not going to let you go. Not now, and not ever. When you lift your head, and you look at me, you really look at me. Like how you used to, like how things are supposed to be. You're not better yet. You're still a bundle of energy needing an escape, you're still trying to keep ahead of the wave that's trying to drown you, but there's hope.

"Sam…" You sigh, and in that sound I realize you've given in. "Okay. You win."