I Killed the Girl Who Stayed
By Jay Catalyst
Every moment felt already like a broken promise. No matter how much I tried to question it, that smile of yours condemned me to believe in you again.
Your words—like incantations— took flight the moment those lips uttered them.
I was the instrument. And you were the musician. The keeper of the music, the storyteller, the one whose truth was sung— even when it was disguised as one.
These lips were once marked by yours— burned, charred by something I mistook for warmth. And now, when I trace them with the same hands that once reached for you, I hesitate.
Was it all a nightmare I finally woke from? Or did I truly survive it?
Did I really make it back to shore?
Because if I did… why does the tide still sound like your voice?
How do I live when I was taught to live for you?
How do I break a chain I once called devotion?
How do I silence a smile that still lingers like a ghost behind my better judgment?
I don’t want to be claimed again. I don’t want to forget what it cost me to leave.
But I’m afraid— afraid that one soft moment, one familiar look, will make my strength feel like a lie again.
These arms that once wrapped around me became the cage that slowly closed in. So gently… I questioned if I was the one going mad.
Piece by piece, I withered inside something I once called love until I could no longer recognize the sound of my own voice.
And when I finally saw it— really saw it— I knew something had to die.
Not you.
Me.
The version of me that stayed. The one who waited at empty wells with cupped hands and stubborn hope, believing one day water would return to something that had been dry for years.
She had to go.
Because in her place… something else needed to rise.
Something that knew how to break the cage. How to choose air over illusion. How to walk away without asking permission.
And when she did—
I heard it.
Not silence… but a scream.
Raw. Unfamiliar. Mine.
And now I stand here— on the shoreline of something new— unsure of what comes next.
Unsure if I am ready. Unsure if I am strong enough to survive what life asks of me next.
But I know this:
I will never beg an empty well to love me again.
I will never confuse control for care, or charm for truth.
And if that smile ever finds me again—
it will meet someone who no longer belongs to it.
Because that cage—
it didn’t just hold me.
It nearly erased me.
And now…
I am learning, slowly, how to bring myself back.
To believe in my own voice again. To trust my own hands again. To accept that I am worthy of something that does not hurt to hold.
I don’t know where this path leads. I don’t know what waits for me ahead.
But I do know this—
I am no longer hers to abandon.
And I am no longer yours to keep.









