TW: Self-harm and suicidal thoughts. 

I didn't wake up until the next day but I wish I didn't. Grimm is currently trying to get me to eat this so-called chicken soup. Inside the porcelain bowl, there are eight peas and four thin slices of carrots, and three pieces of shredded chicken. They all float in the piss-yellow puddle of broth. Any hunger I felt diminished.

We sit on the floor of my bedroom with a small wooden table sitting between us. But before he tries to force me to eat, his jaw ticks. "Is the little girl here, right now?" I briefly and vaguely told Grimm about seeing my younger self since he kept asking from the moment I woke up. I wish I didn't tell him because he looks nervous and a nervous Grimm was not good. I nod my head.

"Have you heard of the term poltergeist?" He taps one finger on the wooden table while the other hand rubs his jaw. I don't respond. "Poltergeists are strong entities built from human emotions. Negative emotions, more like so. They're created when someone becomes fully charged with negativity and usually you can't see them. But since you're a witch, she probably fed off your energy, amplified it, and separated herself from you. It's why you have a visible poltergeist and only you can see her. It also explains why your magic is uncontrollable, she adds to your chaos." 

His gaze holds a serious expression. "Poltergeists wreak havoc on the living. They like to torment the living by creating noise, throwing objects, and misplacing objects around the house. This is a game to them. They like to see how far they can go before a person goes insane."

Ah, well, she sounds like fun.

"Why is my poltergeist in the form of my seven-year-old self?" I ask.

Grimm stops tapping his finger. "If one ever comes face to face with their poltergeist they will be looking at what they fear the most. In your case, you fear your younger self." He tilts his head to the side as he tries to decipher the reason why I am afraid of my younger self, but they're too many reasons. Grimm seems to think the same as he pushes the bowl forward, "Enough about that, I'll help you get rid of it but first, you need to eat."

I met his gaze, raising a brow. "You want me to eat that?" He sighs heavily. "You're sick."

"Yes, I'm sick, not tasteless." I retorted. "Would you eat this? No, you wouldn't because you don't have a bland tongue." Grimm briefly closes his eyes as he pinches the bridge of his nose but I catch his mouth twitching upwards. Then I find myself wanting to see one of his wicked smirks. But he refuses himself any enjoyment.

"You need to eat something. Tell me, what you want to eat. I'll bring it. Anything you want." Grimm's voice goes low at the end as it lingers with desperation.

They're so many things I wanted in this life, but what I have learned about wanting things is that you can never have no matter how hard you try. Although it's been interesting lately talking to the dead and having made a few friendships, I wasn't made to live a life. I think it's time for me to go home. I need to go home.

This world does not want me to live and neither do I.

I cleared my throat and met Grimm's gaze. "There is this Mexican restaurant about five blocks away from here. They sell this dish called 'caldo de res.' It's my favorite soup." He nods his head. "I'll tell Hans—"

"I thought you said you would bring it?" I frowned. Grimm looks at me, debating whether he should stay or go. I encouraged him a little, "I would prefer it if you were the one who brought it to me." It wasn't a complete lie, anything that came from him I know I would like it ten times more. He lowers his head as the corner of his lips slightly lifts, and I did the same. Now, who is the one hiding?

I looked away before he could see my face. "I'll bring it to you but there was something I wanted to ask you." He said quietly.

I pretend to look at my nails as if they were more interesting than his unasked question. "What is it?" I said.

Grimm clears his throat as he timidly and softly says. "I would like to eat with you. I was going to ask you the other day but you chose to spend the day with the ghost child. I would've liked it if we could have gone somewhere pretty and quiet but I don't think I can wait. So, may I accompany you in your meal, raven?" He sounds hopeful if Death could ever be hopeful.

Tears form in my eyes and bitterness cascades as my heart plunges and pounds for him. I haven't had a meal with anyone in such a long time, and just thinking about it brings another wave of negative emotions. The image of us sharing a meal feels like a dream. It makes me feel stupid for missing and wanting to eat with someone. Why do these things continue to bother me? Why—why do I care? I always knew this was the life I was going to live so why—I dug my nails into my palm—why can't I get rid of this feeling?

Let's make it quiet.

Pulsing runs through my veins and I squeeze my eyes shut as the volatile surge expands around me, quickly followed by a loud shattering noise. I release my uneven breaths. "I'm sorry, she—" I wiped the wetness from my cheek clean.

"I know," Grimm answers, thinking I was talking about my poltergeist.

I turn around to see him picking up the broken pieces of the porcelain bowl. The chicken soup is spilled, rapidly spreading all over the table. I move a little closer and just about when Grimm reaches for one of the shards I place my hand over his. "I would like it," I met his gaze, unwavering. "If you ate with me." And it's if I'm looking at the stars on a cold night, and it's worth every chill breeze. I would have liked to share a meal with you, I'll make sure to dream about it.

"I promise you won't regret it." I slide my hand from him, he begins to stand up. "I'll be back."

I don't say anything as my hand feels a bit heavier but I continue to look at him.

Grimm walks away just as he is about to reach for the door he steps to a halt. His shoulders tense and he slowly, yet painfully, turns around. All the brilliance and hope are gone from his face, all that is left is an empty look. His jaw tightens.

My mouth becomes dry. "What?" I ask, quietly.

"Give it to me." He said coldly.

I curled my hand into a fist. "Give you what?" I hissed.

Leave, please, leave. Turn around and don't look back. Leave. Leave. Leave!

Grimm's concealed face does not last long. Frustration chews at him until hurt and anger invade his entire being. He marches forward like a madman and I immediately scramble to get up, I sprint into one of the corners of my room and place my left hand behind my back. I clutch the shard glass so damn hard into my palm, he can't take this away from me. 

I held my other hand out, "Please, don't" I rasped.

In one quick motion, he grabs my wrist tightly pulling it toward him but I push myself against the wall, planting my feet on the ground. "Why!" He yells, "Why do you want to do this?" I continue to try to remove my wrist from his grip but it only makes him hold it tighter.

I shout back. "I need it to be gone! I was asking for the wrong silence, it was never the voices in my head. It's the pain. I need to silence the pain and this is the only way I can get rid of it!" His head is in disbelief, his eyes moving back and forth as if he can't believe what he is seeing. I look at him with desperation as defeat begins to crawl into my bones. "Please, I can't live like this any longer. If you want, you could do it. You can make it all go away, completely."

And the horror in his eyes causes all of his body movements to freeze. His hold on my wrist slightly loosens as his jaw unlocks. "You're asking me to kill you?" Grimm's voice is strained and laced with fear but it sounded much like, how could you? I bring my hand from behind, trembling as heavy tears pour down my cheeks.

I swallow. "I was supposed to die a long time ago and—and this world wants me dead. You would be doing me a favor. You would be doing this world a favor."

His nostrils flare, fury seizing him. "And you are still alive because they've been unsuccessful. If this whole world wants you dead then so be it, I'll be by your side—"

"Until when?" I spat. "You will be gone the moment you have your wings back." The truth slaps him across his face. It stings, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. 

Grimm slightly pulls away, his mouth parted yet nothing comes out. I would like to believe if Grimm and I gave in to our temptations it would be okay but we both know it would be like a gray cloud looming over us, gathering memories as time passes, and then one day, it will rain. He blinks rapidly as he struggles for an answer, a solution. But what he wanted was a miracle and we were both incapable of producing such a thing.

My hands grasp the edges of his collar coat, forcing him to look at me. "Don't you see? Everything I have ever wanted," I curl my fingers, my chin trembling. "I have lost it and everything else I could never have." He inhales sharply, and a hint of shame swirls in his eyes.

My eyes burn with needs and want, and tears streaked my cheeks like a flowing river. Continuously. Grimm places his hands on the sides of my cheek, a shiver runs down my spine. "What you are asking of me, I cannot give it to you. I could never hurt you." He whispers, full of longing and hurt. "I need you." He needed me for his wings, but his eyes said otherwise.

I needed to go home. I want to go home. I want to be with my family.

"Please..."

His thumb swipes a tear. "The world has made you feel this way, not you. I know there is part of you that wants to live and it's what you are holding onto. Every time you look at me, I see it. Your life, your soul, your heart..." Grimm releases an uneven breath. "I cannot take it away from you when you have wielded it to live. I told you this before, you will fall but you will also rise because of what you carry inside. So cry, scream, I'll be the pillar you need." He pulls my body against his, one of his hands cradles the back of my head and I find myself leaning into his chest. 

Still holding onto the edges of his coat, I grasp them tighter as I feel the wave of emotions rising.

A violent cry escapes my throat. I press my mouth against his chest as muffled sounds of sobs and screams come out. Grimm holds me tighter as he quietly speaks into my ear, "I know you. I know you will rise." He sounds so confident but it was more than that, it felt like faith.

But I continued to cry and hold him as if he was anything but a pillar.

The droplets of poison began to flourish in my head. Words like stolen, robbed, and murder had spread on my seared wounds, deepening them. I knew the next time I would open my eyes, I would stop crying. Someone killed my mother. Someone killed my brother. Someone took away the two people I loved more than the entire world. I hope whoever killed them was alive.

I pray I have the chance to make them suffer.