I was dangling from a cliff when he found me.
I didn't call to him for help; he came running.
"I'm here," he told me sweetly. And he reached out his hand.
"Don't look down," he warned me.
I didn't.
I didn't know what was beneath me. I didn't want to know. I didn't have to now.
I clung to him with shaky hands. He began to pull me up. Slowly. Slowly.
"I will be safe," I thought.
I could trust him. No- I must trust him. For without him, I would find myself hanging from the edge again. He was my hope.
I felt like I may have enough strength to pull myself over the rocky ledge- almost - but then he stopped pulling. He looked at me with interest as I hung there, looking back.
"Do you trust me?" He asked me.
"Yes!" I replied earnestly.
I sensed his hesitation. Why didn't he believe me? What had I done to lose his interest?
I felt his grip loosen on mine. And then, without warning, he let go. My body lurched downward. My arm swung desperately to the rocks in front of me, grasping the ledge for support. My other arm clawed up to meet it.
"Please," I begged him, "don't go. I need you."
He paused. His eyes peered deep into mine. Would he save me? Was I worth saving?
My arms throbbed. My clenched fingers ached.
"I will do anything!" I pleaded.
Then he reached down, his hand clasped mine, and he pulled my body up towards him. He held the weight of my body as I hung there, hand in hand, legs dangling over the unknown.
Relief washed over me as the pain subsided.
"Thank you," I breathed. He almost smiled.
But his smile turned quickly.
His grip loosened, then released, and I clawed at the jagged ledge. I caught myself on the rocks. My hands stung from the impact.
"No!" I yelled to him, "No! Why?"
What did I do? Did I say the wrong thing? What did he want me to say?
Confusion set in with the panic and pain. My hands were scraped, my fingers numb. My shoulders pulsed with adrenaline and desperation.
"I will do anything!" I said as I had before. But this time, he didn't reach back down for me.
No, that wasn't it. That was the wrong thing to say. So I fumbled for another way to convince him to come back to me.
"You don't have to save me," I said halfheartedly. "You can go."
But upon hearing this, he reached back down and pulled me up, closer to him. So close I could feel safety in my grip. So, so close.
My muscles unlocked from their grip.
The absence of the pain washed over me like a wave.
Ecstasy.
"I'm sorry." He said sincerely. "I care about you."
"I know," I said after a moment. He must. Why else would he keep coming back for me?
He pulled me closer to him. My body relaxed and let him hold me. I closed my eyes and breathed. I almost forgot I was still halfway over the cliff.
Until I felt his hand twitch.
My eyes sprung open. What was it? Was he having second thoughts?
He looked unsure.
Was I too trusting? Did I take him for granted? What did he need from me?
No. Nothing.
No, he changed his mind. He wouldn't let go.
His fingers tightened again around my wrist. Relief poured back into my body.
I needed to know what it was that was making him doubt me. I needed to prove to him that I was worth it. I was worth saving!
But was I? I wondered.
Maybe he was right to doubt me.
What had I ever done to earn his love? I didn't deserve him.
And yet, here he was, holding on to me. Saving me from the pain. Keeping me safe.
Loving me.
But it didn't last. In an instant, he let go, and I found myself clinging to the ledge once again, bruised and scraped. My elbows began to bleed. My fingers were raw. The pain overwhelmed me.
It was so sudden! I wasn't ready!
I looked at him in hopes of understanding this game we were playing.
"What do you want from me?" I strained to ask as my body ached and swayed from the rocky ledge.
He held out his hand to me. For the first time, I wondered if I really wanted to take it again. He would just let go. I knew he would.
But the relief.
Ah, that sweet, beautiful relief when I was no longer clinging to the edge. Had I ever felt anything so powerful? So intense? The more intense the pain, the greater the relief when he held me again.
I couldn't resist. I couldn't stay in this pain. I needed him. I needed that rush. I needed that relief.
So I grabbed him, all the while knowing that soon, he would let me go again.
But maybe not as quickly. Maybe he would give me some time to rest.
And he did. For several minutes, I hung there, held up by the strength of his arms.
Waiting. Waiting.
One arm holding on for life.
The other anticipating the next fall.
It was predictable.
It came as I knew it would.
The pain was familiar.
Drop. Reach. Claw. Cling.
Aching. Throbbing. Shaking.
I felt my body numbing.
The pain dulled. My tired body surrendered.
And I said nothing.
Waiting.
Waiting.
He'll be back.
He always comes back.
Relief will come.
It always does.
He seemed unnerved by my numbness. He watched me dangling there in silence, glued to the side of the cliff. Fingers locked in stubborn desperation.
"I made a mistake." He said with sincerity. And he reached out his hand to me.
But my numbness had overtaken me.
Maybe I didn't need him after all, I thought. Maybe I can climb up without him.
So I ignored his hand. And I swung my body, lunging for a foothold.
Missing.
Swaying.
Hanging again.
My body reminded me of the pain I was in.
My mind remembered the ecstasy of the support he offered. The release. I needed it.
I couldn't do it on my own.
"If I grab your hand," I said, "you have to pull me up. All the way this time. No more back and forth."
He nodded. "Of course. No more back and forth. Trust me."
So I did. And with that, he grabbed both of my arms, and he pulled me up. Over the rocky ledge, away from whatever lay below. Away from my pain.
My body reeled, sore and worn down.
But that rush. That wonderful rush of euphoria when the pain was gone- it was almost like it never happened at all.
So we stood there at the edge, he and I.
And I fell into his arms.
My rescuer. He saved me. He loved me.
I wanted to hide myself away in him.
Tie myself to him.
"Never leave me," I whispered to him. For I knew now that I needed him to live. I needed him for survival.
I was weak. I would surely have fallen to my death without him.
I owed him everything.
We stood for a long time, I in his arms, recovering. Healing. Resting.
And then-
I felt his body move forward. I stepped back.
He stepped forward again, and I back.
Forward. Back.
Forward. Back.
My heel felt the ledge, and my body lurched towards him. I clung to him in sudden terror.
"Please!" I begged him. "Don't let go!"
I felt the anticipation of the pain setting in. The rocks digging into my skin. My muscles aching, holding the weight of my body. No. I didn't want to do it again. I couldn't.
He took a step back. I stepped forward into him.
He embraced me. A smile flickered across his face.
"What are you afraid of?" He said sweetly. "I was only walking towards you."
I must have imagined it. How silly of me.
I shook my head. "I'm sorry," I said, "I overreacted."
"I told you," he reassured me, "no more back and forth. I meant it."
The reality of that security set in. He loved me.
No more pain. No more fear. No more agony.
So we stood.
No more pain.
And we stood.
No more pain.
Only relief.
But we stood, and we stood, and a sense of uneasiness took over me. This relief didn't feel like it used to. I felt numb. Lifeless. Void.
Did he even love me anymore? How could I know? I looked in his eyes, and they looked as numb as mine. What happened?
Perhaps it wasn't the relief that I wanted.
Perhaps it was the pain.
Perhaps it was the fear that felt so wonderful.
The intensity. The rush. The euphoria.
My body craved it. Begged for it. I didn't want to go on in this numbness- I needed to feel alive. I needed to feel that love again.
So I backed up. Just a step. And he followed me forward. He wanted this too. I could see it.
I backed up. Just a little closer to the edge.
His feet followed mine.
I felt the fear creep up my legs.
It felt horrible.
Wonderful.
And without a word, he took me by the arms and held my body out, leaned over the emptiness. My breath escaped from me. I dug my nails into his arms.
"Don't let go," I said instinctively like I had so many times before.
He hesitated. I felt the panic wash over my body. Then the pain. Then the numbness. Then the waiting.
Like a script.
Like we both knew our part and played it well.
He held me there for a minute. Debating.
For a moment, I thought it was going to happen. He was really going to drop me off the side of this cliff. My stomach flipped. Would he really do it?
And at the very moment I believed he would, he suddenly pulled me back into him. We tumbled onto the dirt together.
I lay on my back, eyes closed, as the weight of the fear was lifted from my body. It felt surreal. It felt better than any time before. His love was so tangible.
So real.
I needed more.
So we did this dance. Backwards, forwards. Pain, relief.
Because anything less than pain felt like numbness. And only relief felt like love.
Pain, relief.
Agony, ecstasy.
Anxiety when it left. Euphoria when it returned.
Pain, relief.
Pain, relief.
Until the day it stopped.
The day when the cycle ended.
The day when he walked me to the edge of the cliff, pushed me off, and walked away.
And I fell.
And in the moments before I hit the ground, I was sure I would die. He was never coming back for me. I would never survive the fall.
But I did.
I did survive.
Because it was as I hit the ground that I realized that this cliff I had been clinging to wasn't a cliff at all. That the drop he had been saving me from wasn't far. That the pain I suffered from hitting the bottom wasn't half as agonizing as the pain I suffered from avoiding it.
That he wasn't my rescuer; he was my captor.
That I wasn't his damsel; I was his prisoner.
That relief isn't joy.
That the absence of pain isn't numbness.
That intensity isn't love.
Perhaps he will go back to the cliff someday to see if I'm waiting there. To see if I'm clinging to hope that he may come back for me.
Perhaps he will find someone else there instead. Some young girl who believes she needs to be rescued. Who doesn't know the difference between love and pain. He may find her there, breathless and desperate for his outstretched hand.
But he will not find me.
No comments:
Post a Comment