I bet if I hadn't accepted dying, I would have drowned. But since I embraced it, against all odds, here I am, sitting on a bed, not able to draw a single breath without feeling the awful pain across my rib cage.

Ironic.

I hate pain. It's the singular thing that I despise more than anything and the funny part is, it's the only thing I can't seem to get rid of. It's an inseparable part of my life.

I inhale a slow deep breath and groan, I can't even move properly. With careful motions I slide myself on the bed, pressing my back to the headboard, and shut my eyes.

It's been only twenty-four hours, first Jeffry tried to kiss me, then Adrien kissed me, and for the bigger part of the day I've been ignored, my parents are again disappointed and on top of everything, Sophia pushed me into the sea.

Can it get worse than this? Statistically, it's impossible, but it's goddamn life.

I press the heels of my hands to my eyes. I want to cry and scream in frustration and no one is giving me space and everything is just too much.

Arianna and Adrien need to learn from Dylan. The dude is the most chill guy I've seen. Someone who knows what giving space means.

I push my hands through my hair, maybe I'm being an ungrateful bitch. But I don't understand why Adrien and Arianna were making it such a big deal, I hardly threw Arianna out of the room.

But the annoyance and irritation aside, Arianna was a mess. I never thought I would see her cry. Over me.

And Adrien looked like he had seen a ghost or was turning into one.

I wonder how he found me in the pitch black of the sea, it must have been very unlikely to be found...

I furrow my brows, why am I annoyed? Adrien just saved my life, I have to be grateful. What is wrong with me?

Right! Now I remember, I can't fucking breathe!

I would have rather him not finding me instead of being doomed to inhaling and exhaling with a tremendous amount of pain for at least two weeks. Clutching both sides of my waist, I breathe in and out slowly.

My first semester back in college resurfaces in my memories. The night of my first midterm exam, my ulcers had hit full force and I couldn't breathe because the pain had spread to my back and chest and the anxiety of messing up my exam was growing with every passing second, not helping. And I laid in my bed, crying and contemplating overdosing because the pain was too much and I didn't want to ruin my exam.

I bite my bottom lip to hold myself from giggling. I'm quite dramatic when it comes to pain. I guess it explains why I'm so pissy.

And I hope it has nothing to do with the fact that I was so ready to die.

I wonder what Theo would have thought of that. I mean if I had died. I can't help but imagine different scenarios where Mom, Dad, and Theo find out about me falling off the yacht and drowning. Their reactions, their thoughts. The whole setup of the funeral and the people showing up. The guests will probably be my parents' friends and colleagues and Theo's close friends. Maybe Arianna too. I wonder if Avery would assume I threw myself off only to become the center of attention.

I shake my head in an attempt to rid myself of these poisonous thoughts. I had been doing well in the past few days, why did my progress evaporate?

Slowly, I sigh and glance around the room. My eyes linger on my suitcase, I frown. Can it be possible that I have brought painkillers? I hardly use them thanks to my very non-efficient working stomach.

I clench my jaw and will myself to stand, fisting my hands, fingernails digging into my skin. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment before reopening them and plod to it, all the while muttering colorful curses and profanities.

I reach the suitcase and place my palm on the wall. Catching my breath and reminding myself that swearing reduces pain. With muttering stronger obscenities, I lower myself and bend down.

In the middle of my commotion, the door opens and Adrien walks in with the promised coffee.

Life still has its bright sides.

He frowns, "What are you doing?" And walks to me, placing the cup of coffee on the top of the dresser. His warm fingers wrap around my upper arm and his other hand grasps my shoulder and he slowly guides me back to bed. "You should've called me or Ri if you wanted something," he remarks as he helps me to sit.

Turning around, he walks back to the dresser, "So, what did you need? I can give it to you if you tell me where it is."

I grind my teeth together to stop myself from blurting out something stupid. Why is he talking so much though? Has anyone ever pointed that out to him? I'm tempted to be the announcer of the fact, but he walks back to me with the coffee cup.

I can't be rude to someone who just brought me coffee.

"I was looking for painkillers," I tell him as he hands me the mug and thank him.

He nods and walks back to the suitcase, kneeling in front of it he starts shuffling around.

I glare at the steam emitting from the liquid brown gold. I wanted cold.

Shutting my eyes, I try to inhale deeply and calm myself, ignoring the pain. No one has seen my annoyed and irritated side other than my family and Jace. I'm not intending on revealing it just yet to Adrien. Especially after he just saved me but it sure as hell is getting hard.

I inhale the scent of my drink before taking a sip. As it travels down, it warms me from the inside. I open my eyes, and my gaze lands on Adrien fumbling with my pills.

Irritation prickles my nerves as dig my nail into the porcelain cup and in a normal voice speak, "You can give those to me now, I'll find it."

He snaps his head to me, with a nod, pushes himself to his feet, and walks to me, handing the pills.

I force a smile and mutter thanks and scan through the labels. Relief floods me as I spot the painkillers. Without hesitation, I pop two pills into my palm and down it with the coffee.

"You shouldn't have done that," Adrien's firm voice slaps the fact to my conscious that he's still in my room.

I gaze up at him. His arms are crossed in front of his chest, his eyes fixed on me, brows furrowed.

I urge my brain's engines to work faster and produce a comment I can use in order to get him to leave without being too rude.

He sighs and walks to the foot of my bed, pushing his hand through his hair, and paces the room before standing in the range of my sight.

He shoves his hands into his shorts' pockets, fixing his focus on me. "When are you planning on telling Theodor what happened?" he asks and after a beat of silence, takes out one of his hands, waves it around, and continues, "you shouldn't waste any time, and tell him as soon as possible."

I narrow my eyes, "Why would I tell Theo?"

He raises his eyebrows and looks at me like I've just said the Earth is flat. Incredulous he makes points, "What do you mean? He's your brother, and he's a lawyer and Sophia tried to kill you."

Oh god. "It was an accident," I explain and he gapes at me. Now is really not a good time for this discussion, I need to distract him or just make him leave.

"What do you mean it was an accident!" he exclaims. "Ri told me Soph pushed you off!"

"Well, she misunderstood the situation." I shrug.

His eyes widen, "She saw her pushing you off!" he yells.

"Why are you making it such a big deal," I groan and place the cup of coffee on the nightstand attached to the bed's frame. I continue, "Sophia made a mistake, and everyone makes mistakes. So it's okay. No need to make a big deal out of nothing." 

"You could have died!" he bellows.

"But I didn't."

He pushes his hands through his hair, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "What is wrong with you! She literally tried to murder you! Why are you taking her side!" he shouts.

Oh. I should have thought before saying that. Well, that's why I push everyone away when I'm not in a good mood.

Never think before you talk. My whole life is based on that rule, and yet when my bitchy side takes control that rule is forgotten getting me into deeper problems. Unfortunately, I'm finding it impossible to go by the motto. All I want right now is for him to just leave me alone.

"I'm not taking her side," I begin in a calm tone, pushing my glasses up my nose. I draw the hoodie's sleeves down and fiddle with it. "I just think that you're being dramatic," I explain, avoiding him and letting my gaze wander around the room.

He balls his fist, nostrils flare and his aqua green eyes darken. At that moment, I realize I might have not said the right thing, again.

With eyes ablaze he points his index finger at me, his neck flushing deep red, "You think I'm being dramatic and making it a big deal? Well, I'm sorry that I give two fucks about you. Should've given this reaction if you had died? Because that would have made all the fucking difference, is that what you think? That now that you're fine, it's over. Wow, Eleanor, just wow." He pushes his hands through his hair. "How can you not fucking care!" he booms.

His voice hammers in my head, reverberates in my skull, jabs at my heart. The worst part is, he is right. Why can't I care?

His reaction shows that I'm not behaving like a normal person. And I don't know what a normal person would do in this situation. I find myself going down in the quicksand I've made with my own hands.

Self-loathing stings my sense. I can't think straight, thanks to the constant pain I have each time I breathe. The painkillers haven't kicked in, I need time to figure how to fix this mess. But I don't have that either. Now I'm losing my newly built friendship.

Why can't I just think like other people!

My fingers tremble as I urge my brain to produce a single thought that might save me from this clusterfuck.

He looks at me dead in the eye. "Why don't you care? Why isn't it important for you?"

Think Eleanor, think. With a shaky breath, I try to come up with an explanation, "It's not that I don't care, I just think we shouldn't drag it."

"Why shouldn't we?" he counters, his gaze unwavering.

Oh god. It would have been better if I had drowned. I shift on my spot, and chew my bottom lip, "Because..." my voice trails down, the words rushing in my mind to complete the sentence aren't exactly what a healthy person would say. I push my glasses up and settle with, "it's already been super stressful and I don't want to cause more problems." This should be a good enough answer.

His incredulous look objects, he opens his mouth to argue but I add faster, "And it's been a very stressful and tiring day, I think it's better if we don't decide about it now."

His eyebrow twitches, his mouth presses into a thin line, jaw sets, and a muscle flickers. "Do not dismiss me like that," he warns in a dangerously low voice and a shiver crawls down my spine.

It's actually insane how a person can be sweet and caring and the next moment terrifying.

I lick my lips and swallow hard. Ignoring the pain, I push myself to my feet. With fidgeting fingers, I impel myself to hold his gaze. "I'm just saying tha-" I start but he interrupts me.

"I don't fucking care. What is going on? Why are you taking Soph's side and trying to save her?" he glowers and demands as he walks towards me.

"Adrien-" I begin, in an attempt to convince him we talk about this any other time.

"Answer me!" His thunders.

I flinch. I've never seen this side of him. Snarky comments and scornful remarks, sure,  but never in this tone. Not even back in Amsterdam, after the morning he had found me in Red Light District.

I shuffle through my head with desperation, I have to come up with something.

His eyes darken as they scan my face while I struggle in vain to put an explanation together.

Why does he have to make it such a big deal? Why can't he just drop it?

His fingers wrap around my upper arm. "Don't you fucking dare lie to me."

I don't want to lose my friends. If I tell him anything, even the softest version of the truth, it will drive him away as well as Arianna and Dylan. How can I tell him I don't care if I die? Or I don't mind dying? That is basically admitting you're one stage away from being suicidal. Hoping he won't catch that part is being stupidly optimistic. I wish he wasn't smart, or he wasn't good at analyzing, connecting the dots, and jumping to conclusions the way he did in all our classes back in college.

"Adrien please," I whisper as I try to free his grasp, which is surprisingly firm but not hurting.

"Don't!" he warns and lets go of my hand, pointing his finger at me. "I went through hell and back to find you. You can't even fathom the shit I went through from the second Ri told me you'd been pushed till you became conscious. The least you can do is tell me what's going on. For once tell me the truth, Eleanor. For once! That's all I'm asking! Is it too much?" he fumes.

I look away. A timer is ticking in my head. Exhaustion and annoyance are the contents of the bomb controlled by the timer.

On one side of the scale, the fear of losing the progress I've made, including the new friendships. And on the other scale is the irritation and frustration of him cornering me for an answer.

I fight to keep the scale balanced but his patience is running thin and my energy is running low.

"I can't believe it," he mutters and backs away. His lips are pressed tightly together and he goes stone-faced.

The disappointment swirling in his eyes is directed at me. My stomach drop. It agitates me and something in me snaps.

"I don't owe you an answer, Adrien. You saved my life, thank you, but I did not ask for it, so don't act as I owe you something. And don't you dare give me that disappointed look. I don't want to tell you what's going on, that's my choice, I'm not obliged to tell you anything," I snarl.

His eyebrows jump high as he stares at me with surprise, his mouth agape.

I'm so fucking tired of having everyone get disappointed in me.

First Theo, then Mom and Dad, and now him.

I'm so done.

I hold his gaze, as his taken aback demeanor changes into hurt.

"Why are you acting like this? It's like I don't even know you," he accuses me. Pressing his fingers to his chest he speaks, "Why are you behaving like I'm the bad guy?" His expression hardens. "I'm just asking for an explanation. Why you're taking the side of the person who tried to kill you? Am I not allowed to do that Eleanor? Or for once expect to hear a truthful answer from you? Instead of constantly being dodged. Is it too much to ask for? Tell me."

"Fine!" I snap and rage on, "You want to know? Okay. I don't care because I don't find it important. Yes, Sophia pushed me off, so what? Did I die? No. I don't even understand why you're fussing over it. To be honest, I couldn't care less about death and dying. There you go, there is your answer. Happy?"

Unreadable emotions flash across his features, the emotions shift into something I can't comprehend before he regains his composer and pulls the mask of indifference on his face. "Why?" he questions in a blank tone but I know better to be fooled by that. He's in turmoil but doesn't want to show it.

"I find it hard to care about dying. There are over seven billion people on this earth, and I can assure you nothing is going to happen if one of them happens to drown, just like hundreds of other people dying every day. One death means nothing." I cross my arms in front of my chest and glare at him.

His Adam's apple bobs, his eyebrows draw together before raising high and furrowing again. His bottom lip quivers and his gaze in frantic motions move around the room. "You don't mean that." He shakes his head and staggers. "You can't mean that," he says in a hoarse voice. "You're lying? Tell me you're lying," his voice breaks.

Shit.

Why does he have to be so damn unpredictable?

I thought he's going to be disappointed, or maybe infuriated, or anything other than hurt. Why is he acting like I've crushed his soul and hurt him in the worst way possible?

"I refuse to accept you think like that," he declares. "Over seven billion people and death of one won't make any difference?" he repeats with incredulity. "Do you even understand what that means!" he shouts. "If you sum that shit up it means you don't care about anyone's death!" he shakes his head and takes another step back. "Do you know what one death does?" he asks with a wavering voice.

I rub my forehead realization finally dawns on me; I messed up.

"Look at me!" he yells. I draw my eyes to him and tighten my grip around myself.

"One death means nothing? My brother died, surely that means nothing too, right?" he questions and I look away.

I didn't mean it like that. I shake my head as a lump forms in my throat. Why didn't I think for a second before saying that?

My heart clenches in my chest as I dig my fingernails into my arms' skin.

"I thought I'm losing you too. Do you know how terrifying the finality of death is? But that doesn't mean anything because you wouldn't understand."

"That's not what I meant," I choke.

He scoffs, "Really? Do you even know what one death does?" he waits for a moment before continuing, "if you had known, you never would've said that."

An eerie silence fills the room, grips us, and holds us on the edge of drowning in it.

"Don't talk to me as though I know nothing about death." His cold words shatter the silence.

"I didn't mean it like that," I mumble.

"Then what did you mean?" he shouts again and I flinch.

I open my mouth, but the words stick to my throat. What have I done?

"I can't step into a fucking hospital after he died, even if my life depended on it. It's been more than five years and I still can't do that. For over a year not a single day went by without me thinking maybe I could've stopped it, changed it! That's what one death does, Eleanor. It's a constant pain, it's not just one death. It affects and ruins anyone who was close to that person. And I was minutes away from going through that hell all over again and you're making me the bad guy?"

I stare at my feet.

"I'm trying to keep you safe!" he booms. "If she did it once, she'll do it again. And you did not ask me to save you? What is that even supposed to mean? Are you mad at me I saved you?" He pushes his hands through his hair and looks around. His gaze returns to me, his eyes widen as his flushed face begins to lose its color as if realizing what he has just said.

"You didn't mean that about every death, did you? You didn't mean anyone's death, you-" his voice breaks, and I look up, at him gaping at me.

Oh fuck.

A whirlwind of emotions pales his features. "Eleanor," he whispers, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Your death, you don't care if you die or live," he mumbles, sounding breathless.

His eyes turn glossy and I stand there staring at him, not even knowing what to think or feel. Not in the wildest conditions I would have expected this outcome. He is hurt and I can't understand why and it's scaring me. I'm trying to look at this whole situation through his eyes but I still can't make any sense.

The least I can do is stop him from hurting until I figure out what's going on inside his head. I reach out to him, stepping towards him, and call his name but he backs away.

"You wanted to die," he points his index finger at me. "Why don't you want to live? How can you even consider that? How can you be so selfish!" he bellows, getting farther away from me.

His words feel like a downpour of needles as sharp as knives. It stings, burns and it hurts every part of my body. Mom's words echo in my head as she screamed the same words at me when I had just woken up from the pill plan gone wrong accident.

I remain there, gazing at him, hiding the hurt, and keeping a blank expression, just like what I used to do in high school. But his words hurt more than then. Even more than my fractured rib. 

"It's like I don't even know you," he breathes out.

Maybe it's because you really don't know me.

"I hate this side of you," he deplores in a firm tone.

Maybe this side of me is the real me. Selfish and ignorant.

His voice wavers as he locks his eyes with me and shoots the final dagger, "I hate you," he thunders and without a second of hesitation, he storms out of the room, banging the door shut behind himself.

I stare at the door for long moments before plopping down on the bed.

I saw the hatred in his eyes. And it cut deep. Deeper than anything, he's ever said or done. And now, it dawns on me, it's been a while I've stopped considering he'll hurt me because I'd begun to trust him without realizing it. I believed him not to hurt me again, and I trusted his words and actions of kindness. Even though I might have driven him to this argument, yet I can't shake off the feeling that he broke my trust. I never should have trusted him.

But the worst part is, I've lost my trust and him as a friend, but I can tell in a short matter of time I'll lose Arianna and Dylan too.

My flaws and cracks and sharp edges won again.

I lost.