I see them now. I see why I'm here.
There is stinging hatred in their eyes, and words designed to whip and draw blood fly towards me. This world is cruel, and I haven't even been here that long.
I will not fall. They cannot see me fall. I hover on the edge, holding myself back, as they do all they can to push me further. There is a rising heat around me and it becomes hard to see and everything is hot and blurry and too much.
I will not fall. But if they come closer I may not be able to hold on much longer. I cannot let myself down like that, cannot let you down like that. Somewhere nearby there is ringing, growing more intense in this terrifying, inevitable way.
I will not fall. Not yet. Why is it that every time I'm here, there is another tragedy, another pain which some outsider could have easily avoided if only they'd said? That's the tragedy of tragedy; the cruelty of an avoidable yet inevitable fate.
At last they take a breath, having emptied their pain into me. A final shake of the head, and the world trembles.
At last they leave. And I can fall.
I'm sorry I can't do more to help you, my darling. As I fall all I can do is caress your face with my salty warmth, and hope I will take some of this grief with you. I won't leave you alone, not until you too are empty and wrung out. You will heal, my love. I wish I could be there to see it.