Dangling. A sea of feet just dangling above my head. Why won’t they help me? Why are my cries for assistance gone unnoticed? Timothy said he would make sure I suffered. That I would be embarrassed by all of my peers. I should’ve believed him. Should’ve never dived off the pier, no matter how much he insisted. Now gasping for my last bit of air, I struggle to make contact with anyone, any eyes that have just a glimmer of mercy. There are none.
(via writers-blockparty):
WRITING PROMPT #53
why are all these people sitting on a sea wall?