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It is too dark.
Despite the clock reading 2 PM and the sun shining bright outside, it feels too dark. The kind of darkness that seeps into your skin and settles in your bones. The kind of darkness that makes every breath feel heavier, every thought a struggle to sift through.
It has been that way for a while now. Everywhere Maya went, it felt dark. Even in the firehouse, where the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, where laughter and camaraderie used to feel like home, it all felt muted. The colours drained like a greyscale prison, the voices distant, echoing muffled.
Every station shift, every quiet moment at home, every mile she runs, the darkness follows her. She’s tired, tired in the way that sleep can’t fix. Tired in a way that made her wonder if she would ever feel rested again.
Her body aches, her mind keeps running, and all she wants–all she has wanted for what feels like forever–is to rest. Just for a moment. Just long enough to feel something other than this bone-deep exhaustion. But Beckett wouldn’t allow it. If anything, he was pouring gasoline on the fire that was already threatening to consume her. His words, his tone, the way he relentlessly reminded her of her shortcomings, that cut deep. Deeper than she’d ever admit. An echo of her father. An echo of his words. She tried to rise above it, to push through. Eyes forwards . But it was getting harder, she didn’t know what to do anymore.
The blackmail had been an impulse. A desperate act born from a place of survival, not malice. It was a desperate, reckless move, but what else was she supposed to do? When every path forward is blocked, and every attempt to do the right thing is twisted into something wrong? She didn’t have the answers.
Everytime she was reminded of the blackmail, she ran harder–especially after Carina found out. She would never forget the realization she had right after doing it. Walking out of the office, she wasn’t sure what to do, only that she couldn’t talk to Carina about it. God, she couldn’t tell her wife. The thought twisted her stomach into knots–it still does.
Carina would be so disappointed if she knew, furious even. Maya didn’t think she could survive seeing that look on Carina’s face–the one that says, I love you, but I don’t understand you . The thought of the disappointment, of the look that would follow, was enough to convince Maya she couldn’t tell her wife. So she didn’t.
Until Carina found out.
The memories of the rooftop… it makes her feel like she is drowning all over again.
It’s all too overwhelming. The weight of it crushes her down, her mind getting louder and at the same time she can’t pick out a single thought. So she does what she’s always done. She runs.
Her feet pound against the treadmill, her breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts. She runs because it is the only way to quiet the raging storm inside her head. She runs because stopping means facing the weight of everything she has been trying so hard to outrun. It’s the only thing she knows how to do anymore: keep moving forward, keep pushing through.
Eyes forward.
She loves running outside. Even if she doesn’t know where to go. What to do. But her shift had only started an hour ago. She just knew she had to keep moving. Stopping wasn’t an option. Thinking wasn’t an option. So she finds the treadmill, again and again and again. Her chest aches with every breath, her legs shaking with each step. It felt like her body was trying to scream for her to stop, to give in. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t.
The clouds called to her, soft and soundless, offering a solace she couldn’t find anywhere else. They didn’t ask her to be better or stronger, they didn’t ask her to get therapy. They only promised quiet. If she could reach them, maybe she could finally breathe. But no matter how good the clouds look some days, how soft, safe and comfortable, she pushes through. She has to. If she stops, she’ll fall apart. And falling apart isn’t an option. Not for someone like her. Not for someone who has to be strong, has to be better. Always better.
So maybe, just maybe, if she pushes hard enough, if she runs fast enough, she’ll finally outrun the darkness. She’ll finally be good enough again. She just has to be a little faster, she just has to be better .
It felt like being trapped in a burning building, smoke filling her lungs, flames licking at her heels. There was no exit, no escape. Just running. Running until it didn’t hurt anymore.
Eyes forward . One step, then another. Keep going. Eyes forward .
I'm so tired. I don’t know what to do. I don’t have any rules, no lines to hold on to. I want to lie down, just rest in the clouds. They look so soft and sound.
The shift is eerily quiet, and although every fiber of her being craves the chaos of an emergency to keep her distracted, she knows better than to tempt fate by uttering the dreaded q-word. But she needed more. More action, more noise, more anything to drown out the voices in her head. Lane’s voice relentlessly shouting in her mind, Beckett’s voice joining in.
You’ll never be good enough
So she runs. A part of her wants to scream back, tell both of them to shut up, but the words catch in her throat. A part of her–a small, quiet, desperate part–whispers for her to stop listening to the voices. To go home. To Carina. Carina would hold her, stroke her hair, tell her it’s okay to rest. That she’s safe. That she’s loved.
But Lane’s voice is louder. It always is, especially now, with Beckett joining in.
Their voices chase her, echoing through her mind. Telling her she’s not good enough, that she’s a failure. She knows they’re wrong, rationally she knows. But another part, a louder part, believes him. That part whispers that she doesn’t deserve Carina, doesn’t deserve the life they are building together. That part tells her she is unworthy of love, of rest, of anything good.
And no matter how hard she tries to outrun it. It’s the part that wins. Just like it always does. She’s a failure. She doesn’t deserve her wife. The words cut deep.
On some level she believes them. Maybe she’s always believed them. And yet, she can’t stop longing for rest. She can feel it in every fiber of her being. She wants it so badly. She clenches her fist, nails biting into her palms as she hears Lane saying she’s not enough, that she’ll never be enough. “I just need to rest,” she whispers to no one. “Just for a second.”
Except where could she rest if not with her wife? The clouds . Sometimes it’s easier to just think about the clouds again. Safer. They’ve always been there, waiting. The silent reminder that one day, everything will be over. She thinks about them often–their soft embrace, their quiet promise of an end to all this noise and pain. A place where everything would finally be over. No more voices. No more failures. Just silence. Peace. She won’t need to live with being a failure. Nobody to remind her of all her mistakes. Just her, in the clouds… free. They were her escape when she was younger, her refuge. She wonders if they could be that again.
Let me rest. Let me rest. I beg you, just let me rest. Lay me down underneath the clouds. Lay me down, safe and sound. In the clouds, in the clouds.
Her legs tremble as she runs, exhaustion clawing at her with every step. She doesn’t know how long she has been running. Time has lost all meaning, but she doesn’t care. The exhaustion seeps in deeper with every step. Her body is screaming at her to stop, to rest. but the voices in her head are too loud. Lane’s, Beckett’s, her own. The noise is deafening, the darkness in her mind too thick, and she can’t find a way out. If she could just go home to Carina.
Carina could be her light, her anchor, her lighthouse in the storm. She knows that, knows her wife would guide her back, pull her from the wreckage of her own mind. The lighthouse to her crashing ship. But Maya doesn’t deserve that. She doesn’t deserve her. She doesn’t deserve Carina’s love, her safety, her warmth. She knew it, even if a small, fragile part of her wanted to believe otherwise. She was stuck in her head. Trapped in a maze of self-doubt and despair. She knows she has to get out, but she can’t find the way. So she’s stuck here, in the dark, running toward nothing. Running from herself.
Rest seemed impossible. Everything felt impossible. She was drowning all the time. If she isn’t running so hard she could forget the world, she’s sinking, the weight of it all pulling her under. She holds her breath, hoping against hope that someone, anyone, wouldn’t give up on her. Would pull her out. But no one does.
19 is a family, is supposed to be a family. We don’t give up on our own . That’s what they say. If someone doesn’t accept help, 19 forces them to. That was the way of things. But maybe Maya hasn’t truly been a part of 19 for a long time now. Maybe she had ruined that connection, burned that bridge. Maybe that’s why nobody was putting in the same effort for her that they did for everybody else, that she had put in for everybody else. Maybe that’s why no one is forcing her to accept help. Or maybe she’s just not worth it.
She isn’t worth it. At least, that’s what the voice in her head tells her. She isn’t worth saving. She isn’t worth loving.
The thought cuts deeper than she expects, and for a moment, her steps falter. What does she do with that? With the realization that the first family she’s ever truly known, the first family she ever loved, doesn’t love her the way she loves them? A cruel echo of her own family. A reminder that she’s unlovable.
She doesn’t know what to do with that. So she runs harder. Runs until the world blurs around her and the clouds fill her vision.
I'm so tired. I need some help. Lay me down now, just let me drown. It’s so dark here, I don’t see no light. The lighthouse is out, and I don’t know how to survive. It’s all in my head now, it’s what they say. It’s not even that I wanna be gone. I wanna lie. I wanna lie down. I want to rest. Find me in the darkness while I hold my breath. I don’t know how to go now. It’s all a bit too much. Just let me rest.
It’s not hard to realize she needs to rest. From the bags under her eyes to the falter in her step as she runs. Her breath comes in shallow, ragged burst and each stride feels heavier than the last. Maya’s feet no longer move with purpose. Her body is tired. She feels like a puppet, her limbs moving mechanically, driven by some force outside of herself, but with every step, her energy drains further.
The treadmill beneath her seems to be mocking her. It’s relentless motion carrying her nowhere, just like the spiral of thoughts inside her head. Each rotation of the belt pulls her deeper into the darkness. She can’t outrun this darkness. She can’t outrun herself.
She knows she’s close to breaking. She’s been pushing herself harder, faster, longer, but the exhaustion is a beast she can’t tame. She doesn’t know how much longer her body can keep going, how much longer her mind can endure this endless race. The weight of the voices, the criticism, the fear—it’s all too much.
The sound of her feet pounding against the treadmill is deafening, drowning out everything else, but it can’t drown out the ache in her chest. The thought of rest, of peace, of silence, lingers in her mind like a distant dream. She wants to stop. She wants to just sit down and close her eyes, let the world fade away. But she can’t, she won’t. She’s been running for so long, chasing something that she can’t even name anymore. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was an escape. But now, it’s just survival. Keep going. Keep moving. Don’t stop. If she stops, if she gives in to the exhaustion, she might never get up again.
But her body isn’t listening anymore, her body betrays her. Her legs feel like lead, and start to shake. Her chest tightens with every breath. The world feels hazy, blurred around the edges. It feels like she’s drowning, the weight of everything is pulling her down. The physical exhaustion, the mental and emotional toll. The constant battle inside her, the fight to keep going when every part of her wants to break.
She thinks of Carina, her wife, who has always been her anchor, her safety and refuge. The one person who sees her, truly sees her. But right now, Maya can’t imagine going to her. Not when she feels so broken, so far gone. The thought of seeing disappointment in Carina’s eyes, the thought of failing her again, makes Maya’s heart ache in a way she can’t describe.
She can’t rest with Carina. Not when she feels like this. Not when she’s not good enough. What could she even say to her? What could she ask for? Rest? Help? Love? She didn’t deserve any of it.
Her mind circles back to the clouds again. They’ve always been there, haven’t they? Calling to her, soft and distant, promising peace, an escape from the pain, from the noise. A constant comforting presence in the distance. She imagines them, their gentle embrace, their quiet lullaby. She thinks of them often, especially in moments like this–when the world feels too heavy and the noise too loud. The clouds offer peace, silence. A place to lie down, to let go of everything that pulls at her, drags her deeper into the pit she can’t seem to escape. But Maya knows she can’t reach them, not yet. She’s still here, still running, still trying to outrun the storm inside her.
Let me rest. The words float in her mind like a prayer, desperate, pleading. Let me rest. She imagines herself lying in the clouds, drifting away from it all, away from the pain, from the guilt, from the exhaustion. Just lying there, safe, sound, at peace. No more running. No more fighting. It would be so easy, so simple, just to let go. To sink into the softness, to stop the constant running.
But even as the thought crosses her mind, Maya knows it’s not that simple. The darkness is too deep. The weight of it all has dug its claws into her soul, and no amount of running, no matter how fast or how far, is going to outrun the storm inside her.
Let me rest. Let me rest. I beg you, just let me rest. Lay me down underneath the clouds. Lay me down, safe and sound. In the clouds, in the clouds.
But she’s not there. She’s here. On the treadmill, in the firehouse, in the dark.
She slows the treadmill, her steps becoming more sluggish with each passing second. The burning in her legs is unbearable, but it’s nothing compared to the burning in her chest, the ache that seems to settle deeper with each uneven gasp of air. She could stop now. She could fall to her knees, let the exhaustion swallow her whole. She could surrender to the darkness, the numbness, the weight of it all.
But she doesn't.
She’s afraid to stop. Afraid of what will happen when she does. The clouds loom in the edges of her vision, closer than ever. They whisper to her, soft and soundless, offering an escape she’s thought about for far too long. Promising her a place to rest, to be still. But even as she yearns for the quiet embrace, almost letting her body sway forward into their embrace, she can’t bring herself to reach out. She can’t put that burden on Carina.
She knows what lies beneath their softness. The place they promise isn’t real–it’s a lie born from exhaustion, despair. And she’s so tired of lying, even to herself.
“I need to rest.” she utters to herself, her voice cracking under the weight of the words. The words she’s refused to hear, let alone say for months now. “Please,” she whispers, her voice barely a breath, “just let me rest.”
She doesn’t know who she’s asking anymore. Carina? The universe? The clouds? Maybe she’s asking herself. For permission to let go. For permission to stop running. She knows she can’t keep going like this. She’s running in circles, chasing something she doesn’t even understand, and it’s only making everything worse. The voices in her head–Lane’s, Beckett’s, her own–they’re all drowning her out, telling her she’s not enough, that she’ll never be enough.
She stumbles off the treadmill, her legs trembling beneath her as she sinks to the ground. The cool surface of the firehouse floor feels solid, real. She presses her forehead to her knees, gripping them tight as though they’re the only thing anchoring her. Her breath comes in short, shallow bursts. I need help. The thought comes unbidden, unrelenting. It echoes louder than the voices that taunt her.
But even as she hears the words, she knows she can’t stop. She can’t let go. Because if she does, she’s not sure she’ll ever be able to get up again.
Carina’s voice fills her mind now, warm and steady. The way she says, “You don’t have to do this alone, amore mio.” How many times has Carina said those words? How many times has Maya pushed them away, convinced she had to bear the weight herself? Convincing herself it wasn’t fair to share it, that Carina deserved someone whole, not someone broken.
But maybe, just maybe, Carina was right. Maybe she doesn’t have to carry this alone.
A part of her wants to hide away. Knows Carina would be glad if she just went home. She could lie in bed and wait for the storm to blow away. But she doesn’t want to burden Carina with her troubles. She deserves better. But she can’t do it alone anymore, Carina has been begging her to get help. but it feels like another failure, needing help to find her way out of the darkness. She should just be able to do this herself. She just needs to find the way out. but finding the way out seems impossible. Stuck in the darkness she needs help finding the way out. Knows Carina can guide her out.
The thought of Carina is enough to keep her tethered. Not the guilt she usually associates with her wife, not the shame of feeling unworthy, but the hope—fragile, barely there—that maybe she can find her way back. That maybe Carina’s arms are not a burden, not a test, but a place where she belongs. A lighthouse.
But the clouds keep calling for her. They seem so soft, so safe, and her body aches for her to lay down in them. Her mind whispers that she could sink into them, let herself drown in their silence and stillness. It would be easy, wouldn’t it? To let go and dissolve into the quiet. To drown in the softness, in the peace she’s convinced she doesn’t deserve
Let herself be overwhelmed with safety, love, silence, peace. Overwhelmed with everything she doesn't feel worthy of. She knows her wife would make her feel that way too, she wants nothing more than to feel worthy of her wife’s arms, her love, support and safety.
She longs to break down, to cry into Carina’s embrace, to let herself be held. To finally admit that she’s tired. To let go of the fight for a moment, knowing Carina will be there to catch her. But shame tightens its grip, a weight pressing on her chest. She doesn't deserve her. Carina doesn't deserve to be stuck with her. The words echo relentlessly. She knows she’s pushing Carina away, knows her wife is trying to help her, but the guilt of needing that help feels unbearable.
So she looks at the clouds, the softness that they howl out. Wanting to join them is nothing new, but she feels so close this time, closer than when she flies through them. Yet she’s still here. still alive, still surviving. She doesn't give herself more than the bare minimum, but it's still enough to be here. She doesn't know what to do with that. What do you do when you’re alive but a part of you is ready to die?
I'm so tired. I want to hide away. I wanna lie in bed while the storm blows away.
It's so dark here. I need Some help.
I need the way out now just let me out.
The
clouds look so soft now.
Like I can go and drown, drown in the softness that they howl out.
But here I am alive now, I don't know what to do. The clouds look so soft.
And for a moment, the world stands still, her mind still clouded, her chest still heaving. She feels empty, like a hollow shell. She’s been so focused on pushing forward, on outrunning the pain, that she’s forgotten what it feels like to breathe, to simply exist without the constant pressure to be more, to do more, to fix everything.
The clouds are still there, but now they seem unreachable. Too far away, too soft, too distant. Maya closes her eyes, takes in a shaky breath, and feels the tears well up behind her closed lids. She doesn’t know what to do. She doesn’t know how to rest. She’s been running for so long, she’s forgotten how to stop.
And for the first time, she lets herself feel it. The weight. The exhaustion. The darkness.
“Let me rest,” she whispers again, her voice barely audible. This time, she doesn’t feel the need to push it away. She lets the words sink in, lets herself admit what she’s been denying for so long.
But she can’t rest, not yet. Not now. She’s too afraid of what will happen when she does.
The clouds are still there. But Maya knows, deep down, that they will have to wait. One day, maybe—just maybe—she’ll let herself go, and the clouds will be there, waiting to catch her. But thinking of the clouds now reminds her of her wife, her wife who is begging her to come home. She knows her wife is on shift until after her shift ends. But maybe when they’re both home she can be better.
Taking a breath she stands up from the ground, walking over to her bottle she takes a sip, then multiple gulps until the once full bottle is empty again. The constant thirst lately has been insufferable, but she’s gotten used to carrying her bottle with her now.
Still, the thought of Carina lingers. Not as a source of guilt, but as a glimmer of hope. A reminder of love, real and grounding, that has kept her tethered to this life when nothing else could. Maybe she doesn’t have to face this alone. Maybe her wife’s arms aren’t a trap or a burden, but a place where she can heal, even if she doesn’t feel worthy.
The clouds pull at her though, whispering their seductive promise of peace. She stares at them, her mind begging for their silence, for the relief they offer. But then she thinks of Carina—her laughter, her determination, the way she says “bambina” like it’s the only thing that matters in the world.
Carina loves her. She knows this in her bones, even if she doesn’t understand it. And for the first time in months, she wonders if that love might be enough to help her find her way out. Not through force, not through running, but through something softer.
But Carina isn’t here right now. She’s on shift, and so is the firefighter. So while everything in her is screaming to rest, lie down in the clouds, or maybe just lie down in bed with Carina. She walks back to the treadmill. She can be better after their shifts end. If she just keeps running until they’re home, she'll be busy, away from the clouds.
Just one more run.
Let me rest. Let me rest. I beg you, just let me rest. Lay me down underneath the clouds. Lay me down, safe and sound. In the clouds, in the clouds.