Time's River Flows to Sea, We Finally Part

When the men dragged me deep into the alley and pinned me to the ground, my fiance and my childhood friend were sitting at the mouth of the alley, eating ice cream.

Fist after fist landed on my ribs.

I fought with everything I had, my fingers clawing bloody streaks down the wall, screaming Daniela Pruitt's name over and over.

But she never moved.

She even dipped her spoon into the ice cream, slow and unhurried, and held it out to Matthew Matthews.

Only when I had screamed myself breathless, my throat gone completely raw, did the men finally let go of me.

Daniela came forward and pulled me up from where I sat slumped on the ground.

"Matthew just earned his master's in psychology overseas."

"He says the only way to fully desensitize you is to recreate the trauma."

Three months ago, when I went to deliver the bid documents to Daniela, a group of men trying to rob me had dragged me into this same alley.

To protect the bag with the documents inside, I took a beating that broke three of my ribs.

After that, I fell into severe depression.

The sound of a man laughing made me shake.

Night after night I woke from nightmares, and the only way I could confirm I had actually escaped that beating was by hurting myself.

Seeing me sitting on the ground with my face drained white, Matthew smiled, pleased with himself.

"See? The shock treatment really does work."

"He went through something this intense and didn't hurt himself again. That means the self-destructive tendency has eased."

Daniela clearly let out a breath.

"You really do know how to handle it."

They looked at each other and smiled.

As though they truly had joined forces and cured me.

I looked down at my own bloody fingertips, and suddenly I was smiling too.

That night, brilliant fireworks spread across the surface of the river.

Alone, I walked out onto the bridge where I had once proposed to Daniela, and I jumped.

The cold river water flooded into my nose and mouth in an instant.

Just as my consciousness was slipping away, Daniela grabbed my arm and, with all her strength, hauled me back up to the surface.

When I opened my eyes again, I was lying on the bank.

The moment Daniela saw me breathing again, the terror in her eyes turned instantly to fury.

"If you wanted to swim, why not go to a pool?"

"Running into the river in the middle of the night, do you have any idea how dangerous that is?"

"What if I hadn't seen you? What were you going to do then?"

Matthew came over carrying a black gift box.

He glanced at the water, and there was something shaken in his voice.

"Good thing Daniela was out here tonight setting off fireworks for me."

"Otherwise, this late, no one would have seen you fall into the river at all."

I followed his gaze.

The fireworks on the far bank still hadn't ended.

Bursts of golden light rose into the night sky, one cluster after another, then mirrored on the churning river below.

So it turned out that while I was despairing enough to throw my life away, Daniela had been down by the river alone with Matthew.

In the instant the fireworks burst open again, I suddenly remembered two years ago.

I had proposed to Daniela on this same riverbank.

That night, I had spent every cent of my savings on a sky full of fireworks.

The light lit up her face.

I knelt on one knee before her, so nervous I could barely keep hold of the ring.

"Daniela, I'll do everything I can to make you the happiest woman in the world."

Back then, her eyes went red and she reached out her hand to me.

I slid the ring onto her finger, certain that at last I had someone who would never abandon me.

But just now, in that alley.

I had screamed my voice raw, calling her name over and over.

She had stood a few steps away, calmly watching me fall back into the nightmare.

And now, in the very place where we had gotten engaged, she had set off an equally grand display of fireworks for another man.

Matthew stood over me, looking down.

On his wrist sat a limited-edition mechanical watch.

Its deep-blue face caught the fireworks and threw back a cold shine.

Three years into our relationship, I had seen that exact watch once, in a display case at the mall.

Daniela asked if I liked it.

I nodded.

Then she saw the price, and her brows drew together at once.

"A watch that costs six figures, when a plain one tells the time just the same."

"Dylan, don't waste money on something this pointless."

After that, every anniversary, what she gave me was the plainest tie.

And I kept telling myself.

What mattered in a gift was the thought, that a price couldn't stand in for feeling.

It wasn't until today that I understood.

Daniela didn't think the watch itself was pointless.

She only thought giving it to me was pointless.

Matthew lifted his wrist and asked me with a smile,

"Nice, isn't it?"

"I mentioned it once, offhand, back when I was overseas. I never thought Daniela would actually remember."

Daniela's expression turned visibly awkward.

"Dylan, don't read too much into it."

"Matthew turned down his job overseas to come back and help you."

"Tonight's fireworks and the gift, that's just me thanking him on your behalf."

Matthew jumped in at once, smiling.

"Exactly. We grew up together, like brothers. How could I ever steal your fiance?"

"Daniela was so worried you'd misunderstand, just now she wouldn't even share a spoon with me for the ice cream."

But I had seen it, clear as day.

In that alley, Daniela had scooped up a spoonful of ice cream herself and slowly held it out to his mouth.

How many times had they shared the same spoon.

How much closeness had there been that I never knew about.

Only the two of them could say for sure.

I opened my mouth, but before any sound came out.

The last round of fireworks shot up into the night sky all at once.

Countless golden sparks slowly formed a line of words.

Matthew, welcome home.

Daniela's so-called thanks on my behalf became a joke in an instant.

Matthew tipped his head back to watch the fireworks and walked over to Daniela's side.

"We'd only meant for the two of us to see this."

"I never expected Dylan to catch it too."

Daniela didn't explain.

She just tossed the blanket onto me.

"You're not well. Stop letting your mind run wild."

Wrapped in that cold blanket, watching the two of them standing side by side beneath the fireworks, I suddenly understood everything.

Three months ago, I had been trapped in that alley, and I had never walked out of the nightmare since.

Daniela, though, had long since started a new life with someone else.

And that someone, of all people, was the friend I'd grown up with.

On the drive back, I sat alone in the back seat, wrapped in that soaked blanket.

Matthew had taken the front passenger seat, glancing down at his new watch every few minutes.

Daniela turned the heater up to full.

The warm air had barely reached my frozen fingertips when Matthew spoke up.

"It's too stuffy in here. I'm getting a little carsick."

Daniela shut off the heater at once and rolled a window halfway down.

"Is that better?"

I was soaked through, and the cold wind came pouring in, my teeth chattering so hard I couldn't stop them.

She glanced at me in the rearview mirror.

"Just hang on a little longer. We're almost home."

Matthew felt a little carsick, and she saw to his comfort right away.

I had just been pulled out of the river alive, and being cold for a while didn't matter.

Once we got home, I shut myself in the bathroom.

The moment the hot water hit my shoulders, I heard it again, the dull thud of a shoe sole slamming into my ribs.

Fists landed on my face, and the back of my head cracked against the wall, again and again.

Someone gripped the back of my neck, pressing the blade into my skin, laughing in my ear.

"Aren't you so good at protecting things?"

"Keep protecting that piece-of-shit bag and I'll finish you."

The sound of the glass bottle bursting by my ear was like a clap of thunder I could never shake.

I braced myself against the sink, staring at the pale face in the mirror.

There was no knife at the side of my neck, yet the skin ached as if it were being cut open all over again.

My phone suddenly buzzed one message after another.

More than a dozen messages flooded in at once.

Coworkers, classmates, even people I hadn't spoken to in years, all sending the same video link.

The title of the video was:

Real Record from a Psychology Master's Student: Making a Trauma Patient Face His Fear, and He Stops Self-Harming at Last.

The person who posted it was Matthew.

In a single night, the view count had already broken three million.

In the video, three men dragged me into an alley.

Their faces were all blurred out under thick pixelation.

My own face, though, was so clear you could see every twitch.

The footage captured the whole thing, me pinned to the ground while they beat me.

It also captured my shirt being torn open, the blade pressed to my throat, and finally me forced to kneel in the standing water.

Off camera, Matthew narrated in a calm voice:

"The subject keeps shouting his fiance's name. This is a textbook case of dependent help-seeking."

"At this point the therapist absolutely cannot rush in to comfort him, or it will only reinforce his pathological dependence."

The comments were all praising him.

Dr. Matthew is so professional. A patient like that would have driven me crazy in no time.

The actors weren't really out for blood. A grown man scared like this is way too dramatic.

His fiance has the patience of a saint, marrying a mental case and still sticking around for his treatment.

The knife never even drew blood. The therapy wasn't thorough enough, was it?

Some people recognized my face and posted my name and employer in the comments.

A coworker asked me, treading carefully:

Is the person in the video really you?

It's gone all through the work group chat now.

I gripped my phone and rushed out of the bathroom.

Matthew was sitting in the living room, refreshing the view count in excitement.

When he saw me, he smiled and held up his phone.

"Dylan, you know what?"

"Even my advisor saw it."

"He said this case has real research value. A genuine reaction is worth so much more than any theory in a textbook."

I stared at him, hard.

"Take it down."

"You blurred those men's faces."

I pointed at the screen, my voice shaking no matter how I tried to steady it.

"Why am I the only one who wasn't?"

Matthew explained it as if it were the most obvious thing:

"Your facial expressions are key data for observing trauma responses."

"If I blurred you out, how is anyone supposed to see the results of the treatment?"

He almost made me laugh with fury.

"Did I agree to let you film it?"

"Did I agree to let you put any of this online?"

The living room went quiet.

Daniela finally set down her phone.

"I agreed on your behalf."

I stared at her, stunned.

She came over and, just like she used to when she calmed me down, gently took hold of my shoulders.

"Dylan, you're unstable right now. A lot of your decisions aren't rational."

"You sacrifice a little privacy, but you let millions of people understand this illness. That counts as doing something meaningful."

Right then, HR from the company called.

The person on the other end told me, gently, that some clients had already come across the video and were worried my mental state might affect my work.

Until the talk died down, the company wanted me to stay on leave.

After the call ended, I said nothing for a long time.

Matthew, though, let out a soft sigh.

"You can always find another job."

"But if you miss this chance at treatment, you might never get out of it your whole life."

Daniela nodded too.

"The most important thing for you right now is to get well."

"It's not like I can't support you. Don't make things hard for Matthew over something this small."

Something this small.

My dignity, my job, and the nightmare I had fought so hard to forget.

In her eyes, they were all just something this small.

I said nothing more. I only wiped the cold sweat from my temple and walked out the door in a daze.

Behind me, Daniela started to come after me, but Matthew blocked the doorway.

"Let him calm down on his own."

"You chase after him and coax him every single time. When is he ever going to learn to control his emotions?"

"Honestly, even though Dylan is my best friend, I can't stand to watch him like this anymore."

The instant the door shut, I heard something inside my chest.

Silently, it shattered.

It was past midnight when I got back to my parents' place.

Mom was sitting in the living room, her phone playing the video Matthew had uploaded.

When she saw me, she didn't ask where I'd been, or why my clothes were still soaked.

She just killed the screen fast and complained, her face pinched with embarrassment.

"It's already all over the family group chat."

"A grown man, pinned to the ground, scared out of his mind like that. How are your dad and I supposed to show our faces after this?"

I stood in the doorway, my lips white with cold.

"Mom."

"I don't want to marry Daniela anymore."

Mom shot to her feet.

"What's gotten into you now?"

"She helps treat your condition, and you want to call off the engagement?"

"Matthew came back from overseas with a master's in psychology, and Daniela was only trying to help you. How can you not tell right from wrong?"

I went rigid.

Mom kept going.

"Besides, you were beaten so badly your body's a wreck and your mind isn't right either."

"Daniela didn't hold that against you, she's still willing to marry you. That's more than enough decency."

"You break it off with her now, and what normal woman would ever want you?"

So in Mom's eyes, I'd already become a broken-down cripple.

If Daniela was willing to have me, I should be down on my knees with gratitude.

I clamped my hands over my ears, and it felt like countless needles driving into my skull all at once.

"Mom, stop..."

"Why should I stop?"

Mom yanked my hands down hard.

"You're a grown man. You still need the whole world revolving around your sickness?"

"You're the one who walked down that alley late at night. You're the one making scenes about killing yourself every day."

"Something happens to you and the whole family has to share the shame. Who are we supposed to complain to?"

I stared at her, stunned.

Even Mom had forgotten.

Three months ago, that night, Daniela had called me out of nowhere and asked me to bring a bid proposal to the hotel.

The meeting was starting in half an hour.

Her voice was so frantic it cracked.

"Dylan, this document decides whether the company survives."

"I can't get away right now. You're the only one I can ask."

It was pouring outside, no way to get a car.

I was afraid of holding up her project, so I ran three blocks with the documents in my arms.

To save time, I cut through that alley.

Those men took my wallet and my phone, and then they went for the bag with the documents in it.

I held onto it for dear life, and I never let go, not even after they beat me unconscious.

Later, Daniela won the project with that document still stained with my blood, and the company pulled through the crisis because of it.

But no one remembers why I was in that alley at that hour in the first place.

They only remember that I became difficult after that, fragile, the one who gave everyone no peace.

Mom was still talking.

"Daniela is so good to you."

"Those months you were in the hospital, she took care of you day and night, didn't even go into work."

"You don't cherish a woman like that, you'll regret it someday."

Was Daniela good to me?

She really was.

The first night after it happened, I wouldn't let anyone near me.

So she sat two meters from the hospital bed and kept watch the whole night.

Later I was afraid to shower alone.

So she stood outside the bathroom door and talked to me through it.

I wouldn't turn off the lights, so she swapped every bulb in the house for warm ones and stayed up with me all night, eyes open.

Once I jerked awake in the middle of the night and shoved her off the bed without meaning to.

She split her forehead open on the corner and never blamed me for it.

She just sat on the floor, smiling at me through the pain.

"It's okay."

"It's okay if you never get better. I'll be right here with you."

Back then, she really did hold me like something precious.

That's why, when Matthew said he wanted to treat me, I trusted them without holding anything back.

But yesterday, in that alley.

It was this same woman, who once asked my permission just to hug me, who let a handful of strangers pin me down and beat me.

And who agreed, on my behalf, to let Matthew release that video.

Her patience lasted three months.

My nightmares might follow me the rest of my life.

My phone suddenly lit up.

Matthew had posted a new update.

First solo treatment, a complete success. Someone said I'd worked hard and rewarded me with a sunrise trip to the mountaintop.

In the photo, Daniela had her head bent, fastening that limited-edition watch onto Matthew's wrist.

A tent was pitched behind them.

String lights and a bonfire turned the bleak mountaintop into something romantic and warm.

Mom leaned in for a look, and something like relief crossed her face.

"What a good boy Matthew is."

"Educated, capable, and such a cheerful nature."

"He gave up his job overseas just to treat your condition, and all you know how to do is be a burden to him."

She paused, then sighed.

"Honestly, if only Matthew were my son."

"At least he wouldn't be like you, dragging the whole family's head down in shame."

In that moment, every sound crowded into my head at once.

The cold of the blade pressing into my neck came back.

The blast of the glass bottle shattering echoed in my ears, over and over.

I pressed my hands hard against my head.

But the video of Matthew explaining the "treatment," and Mom's voice calling me a disgrace, still wouldn't stop.

"Stop..."

"Please, I'm begging you, stop..."

Mom just frowned, impatient.

"Here we go again."

"Daniela's put up with you this long, and you still don't know when to be grateful."

"Hurry up and call her and apologize."

"Get down off your high horse. Beg her, if that's what it takes, to hold the wedding as planned."

Then, all at once, I couldn't hear anything.

The laughter and screaming churning through my head all went quiet in that instant.

I lowered my hands, turned, and walked toward the balcony.

The railing was already loose, and the wind of the eighteenth floor blew straight into my face.

Mom was still pushing behind me.

"Do you hear me?"

"You call Daniela right now."

Since Daniela already had someone she'd rather protect.

And Mom already had the son she'd rather have.

Then I shouldn't exist anymore.

Not until my body dropped into the dark did Mom's endless talking finally stop.

Behind me there was only one shrill scream.

"Dylan!"