This is what people never speak about. You hear on the news that a man pulls a family off of a ledge at some canyon, or a girl lifts up an entire car to save her ill father. You hear about their stories, their tears, the moment the adrenaline began pumping through their bodies.

But they don't tell you about the teetering moment between ground and a fall. A dive into an abyss. The swinging motion back and forth over the edge, back and forth, like some demented child's toy.

I think I might be sick for that split second, that one moment.

My arms feel as if they are going to fall out their sockets. Or maybe that I never had arms at all.

My fingers are too cold my head is too hot and my back is too weak.

"Come on, baby. You got this."

I huff for a moment, gritting my teeth to avoid sending Octavius a very very snarky retort that may not be appropriate for children's ears. Or anyone's ears for that matter.

Aren't Alphas supposed to have super strength? I have literally seen Octavius lift up what seems to be thousands of pounds.

Why can't he-?

But in that moment of thought, I get my answer as I hear a crunch of bone and Octavius' cry of pain. In sock, my sore fingers release the rope as I hurry to the edge of the abyss-like pit and stare down at his crumpled body.

And I see something I hadn't notice before.

How the hell had I not seen those?

Red lines are scattered over Octavius' entire body like the lines on paper, straight and far too thick to be from wood or nature.

And the obviously cracked bone of his leg, the shin in two parts under his skin, twisting in a grotesque fashion that draws bile up the back of my throat.

I look over his feet, his legs, his throat, his chest. And I nearly vomit once I reach his finger tips. His crimson painted finger tips.

"Octavius..." I whisper in utter disbelief. Realization is a screaming banshee barreling into me and shouting truths and realities in my ear that are too harsh to come to pass.

He clawed his own skin. He cut himself like a paper snowflake. So ready to fall. Teetering over the edge of sanity.

"I'm fine." He grunts, rubbing his fingers up and down his arms in the cold, only serving to spread the red dye over more of his skin.

I have a choice. I can run for help. Or-

And I choose the stupid but better choice.

I jump down with him.

"Alessandra what the hell are you doing?" He gasps, rushing towards me and grabbing me by my arms, my coat stained with dried copper. He begins to lift me up, as if he's trying to throw me back up out of the pit but I slap his hands away and wriggle violently in his grasp until he is forced to drop me to the ground.

I pick myself up quickly and hurriedly strip from my jacket, revealing my white shirt underneath. Without care, I begin to shred the white shirt into strips, exposing my bare skin to the harsh wind. But I don't care. I can hardly give a damn what a bit of frost will do to me, when I have the chance to keep my head on straight and help the man I love the most.

"Alessandra, stop it." He barks, grabbing my coat from the ground and tries to force it over my shoulders again, but I just brush him away, grabbing his massive arm in my small and petite hands.

He still struggles against me but not as strongly, the feeling of my skin on his already taking affect. He tries to fight the calm but to no avail.

I begin to wrap the wounds on his arm tightly, but not too tight. He doesn't even wince as he just gives up his fight, staring down at me with steel-like eyes. But I don't lose concentration. For the first time, my head is clear.

I finish with the wounds on his arm and move down to examine his leg, but the moment my pointer finger comes into contact with his skin, he roars at me, grabbing me by the shoulders and forcing me at his eye level.

He's panting, but I see no anger in his black eyes, only excruciating pain.

I lift a hand, softly, with feather-like touch, stroke his cheek, whispering to him:

"I know. I know."

I wrack my brain for a distraction for him, something to explain what happened, and more importantly, who happened.

"Did you break it when you fell?" I ask softly, combing my hands through his twig filled hair.

"No."

My fingers freeze.

"Did an animal-"

"No."

"Then what-"

"I did it."

"You...broke your own leg?" I exhale, confusion, realization, and terror coursing through me.

"It was the only way to control myself."

Oh my god.

He's terrified of himself.

He broke himself.

"Let me help you." I whisper in his ear, wrapping my arms around his neck in a tight hug. His strong arms automatically loop back around my waist, crushing me to his body. He doesn't respond for the longest time, just inhales my scent deeply, burying his face in my hair...and cries.

Not a single tear cry.

A wracking, trembling, earth shattering sob that seeps through my skin and into my heart as he slides down the muddy wall of the pit, still trapping me against his body and he just...breaks.

I can feel the salt of his tears running down my cheek as I press my lips against each eye, against his forehead. It's my turn to put him back together.

"What is happening to me, Alessandra?" He sobs against my neck, his voice wavering like a broken bridge, ready to snap clean in half.

"You're...breaking yourself, Octavius." I respond, and I suppress the tears that beg to fall down my own cheeks.

"I don't want to break you." He sobs, harder this time, coughing against the drowning weight of his sadness.

I pull away slightly, grasping his face and forcing his chin up, forcing him to look up at me.

"I've been broken so many times, Octavius. But you have never been the cause. I love you, and that will never ever change. We might be broken, but two broken halves can fit together. If you're broken, let's be broken together."