The Rope

When I finally found my way out, the darkness still reached for me, its hands wrapped around my ankles, begging me to return. I always knew she was there too. But I was too consumed by the faint, trembling light ahead to look back. When I finally escaped, she called my name. Every part of me wanted to answer. But I don't want to descend again— not into that endless place where every step down forgets the way back up. Maybe that's selfish. Or maybe it's simply what it means to be human. So all I can do is hope that she finds her own path to the surface. Because reality is cruel. Even when a rope is lowered into the deepest darkness, few ever climb it. And more often than not, the one holding the other end is dragged back into the abyss.