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There's no point.

Burying my head under the pillow, I curled it around my ears, trying to stop my mind from running wild.

The muffled sound of crying crept through the wall, growing louder and softer, then loud again.

Picking up my head, Aubrey was crying uncontrollably in her room. The same as she had been every night. Climbing out of bed, I tip-toed over to the wall beside my couch, pressing my ear to the wall.

Her sobbing was a mixture of labored breathing and moans of sadness. Through the painful moans I could make out the single word she kept repeating—'why?'

I've asked that same question. . . And never got an answer.

Laying my hand on the wall, I lifted my index finger, ready to tap the wall and reach out to her, just so she knew she wasn't alone. I wanted to do what Samantha had done for me and give her a friend in this hell.

You know what happened to Samantha because of you. Do you want the same thing to happen to Aubrey?

The sharp edge of my nail hovered over the torn wallpaper, ready to tap. But I stopped myself. Aubrey had grown quiet, her audible tears now a few heavy breaths as I assumed she had cried herself to sleep.

Stepping away, I climbed back into bed, laying flat on my back with my eyes on the ceiling. I remembered being like Aubrey. That feeling of despair and sadness that was so overwhelming there was no where for it to go but out.

Then one day you change. You stop feeling sad. You stop feeling lost and blaming the world for this shitty hand you've been dealt. You learn to deal with it. You learn to work with it and not against it.

It didn't fix a fucking thing, but it made living a little more tolerable. I hated thinking that I had accepted this life. I felt like I had let myself down after all the countless promises I made to never give up.

You haven't given up, Berlin, you've just smartened up. This isn't how your story ends.

Deep down I knew I was just waiting.

Waiting for that perfect moment to tip my world on its axis and give Virgo the middle finger.

Closing my eyes, I drifted off to sleep. A sleep where my nightmares consisted of the life I should have and not the one I was living in.

Who else could say that their nightmares were actually dreams about good stories and happier times?

Only people who had nothing to live for.

People like me.