Pulse of the Pen

“The Blade Between Us”

by Dr. Noose

I didn’t mean to become a lifeline.
But there it was—
A heartbeat hanging on by a blade,
and me, too aware of how sharp silence can be.

They say I saved a life.
But if I’m honest,
it felt like I stole it back from the abyss with hands still trembling
from battles I never reported.

The body remembers.
The way the air turned still.
The second before violence chooses a direction.
The way their eyes—lost galaxies—looked through me,
as if death had already made the appointment
and I was just an interruption.

I lunged anyway.
Not out of bravery.
Out of something messier—
a rage against loss,
a scream stitched inside my ribs,
a refusal to let another ghost set up shop
in the mirror I already avoid.

I don’t talk about the aftermath.
The weight of their weapon lingering in my grip.
The metallic smell crawling up my throat.
The guilt for hesitating.
The shame for not running.
The silence that followed,
louder than any siren.

People pat your back when you play the hero.
But no one asks where you store what you saw.
No one checks the bruises under your calm.
No one asks how it feels to hold someone
who was trying to vanish.

But I’ll say it here.
Because ink listens longer than most people do.

That day,
I didn’t just pull them back.
I pulled myself, too.

And maybe that’s what healing really is.
Not a triumph.
But a tug-of-war with the dark.
And for once,
the rope didn’t snap.

“I Never Meant to Stay This Quiet”

by Dr. Noose

There was a time when silence felt like safety—
a place I could hide my shaking hands
behind words I never said.

But the quiet grew teeth.
It bit through every apology
I was too proud—or too scared—to make.

I told myself no one would notice.
That disappearing politely
was better than falling apart loudly.

But I was wrong.
Someone always notices.
It just takes them longer to admit it.

Now, I live between echoes.
Between the message I almost sent
and the breath I almost didn’t take.

If I speak now, it’s not to be heard.
It’s to remind myself
that sound still belongs to me.

And if you find me here—half‑lit, half‑gone—
don’t try to fix what’s frayed.
Just sit in the quiet with me
until it softens.

Because I never meant to stay this quiet.
I just forgot how to come back.