"Rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life."
— J. K. Rowling
Angel's POV.
As I stood at the door, knocking softly…
Something inside me shifted.
For the first time, I truly thought about it.
Not just the escape…
But the pain.
The finality.
A sudden fear wrapped around my chest.
Would it hurt?
Would it be quick?
Would Mama survive losing me too…?
My breath caught.
Tears filled my eyes before I could stop them.
I pressed my hand against the door, my body trembling as the weight of my thoughts crashed over me.
"What am I doing…?" I whispered.
A tear slipped down my cheek.
Then another.
And another.
Soon, I was crying—right there at the door I had come to say goodbye behind.
The door opened.
"Angel…?"
I looked up.
Sister Agnes stood there, her face shifting instantly from confusion to shock.
I couldn't speak.
The moment I saw her… I broke.
A sob escaped my lips, raw and uncontrollable.
I hated crying.
I had always believed that tears were a sign of weakness… that people only pitied those who couldn't hold themselves together.
And I hated being pitied.
But in that moment…
I couldn't stop.
She pulled me inside without another word.
---
We sat in the living room, and I collapsed against her, crying into her shoulder.
Her arms wrapped around me, warm and steady, as if she could hold me together when I was falling apart.
"It's okay…" she whispered softly, rubbing my back.
But it didn't feel okay.
It felt like everything inside me was breaking at once.
Minutes passed before my cries slowly faded into quiet breaths.
She handed me a glass of cold water.
"Drink," she said gently.
My hands trembled slightly as I took it.
After a while, I managed to calm down.
I wiped my face, trying to steady myself.
Then I told her.
Everything.
What I had planned.
What I had almost done.
The shame.
The pain.
The feeling of being a burden… a mistake… a curse.
Her expression changed instantly.
Shock.
Fear.
Then something stronger.
"No, Angel," she said firmly. "That is not the answer."
Her voice wasn't harsh—but it was strong enough to cut through the confusion in my mind.
"Ending your life will not solve anything," she continued. "It will only leave your mother in pain… a pain she may never recover from."
Her words hit me deeply.
I imagined Mama.
Alone.
Broken.
Because of me.
My chest tightened.
"I'm sorry…" I whispered, my voice shaking.
She reached for my hands.
"You are not a curse," she said softly. "You are a blessing. And your life has purpose—even if you cannot see it right now."
Tears filled my eyes again—but this time, they felt different.
Not hopeless.
Not empty.
But… releasing.
We prayed together.
And somehow, in that quiet moment, something inside me began to heal.
The darkness that once felt so heavy… started to lift.
Afterward, everything tied to that decision was taken away—gone, as if I had chosen to leave that version of myself behind.
And for the first time in a long time…
I could breathe.
---
When I got home, Mama was sitting quietly, sewing her dress.
The soft sound of the needle moving through fabric filled the room.
It felt… normal.
Peaceful.
I stepped inside slowly.
"Good evening, Mama," I said.
She looked up at me, her eyes soft but curious.
"Where have you been?" she asked. "I've been home since 3:30."
Guilt washed over me.
"I'm sorry, Mama," I said, lowering my gaze.
I stepped closer.
"I promise… I'll do better."
She paused, watching me carefully.
"I'll study harder," I continued, my voice steady but filled with emotion. "I'll make you proud."
I took a deep breath.
"No matter what life throws at me… I will stand. I will fight back. And I will never give up on my dreams."
Silence filled the room.
But this time—
It wasn't heavy.
It was filled with something new.
Something stronger.
Hope.