Trust Me

“Trust me.” That’s what they all say; trust me and everything will be alright, trust me and you’ll live. And plenty of times, people do trust them, the liars who say it just to try and make you feel better, lulling you into a false sense of security. It happens all the time in movies, the protagonist says “trust me” while holding the hand of the damsel in distress before jumping off the top of a waterfall into a lake below or doing some other insane thing that only works in the movies. I just never thought it would be me, trusting someone with my life.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked, half-shouting over the roar of a waterfall as I stare down into the black abyss. I am not the damsel in distress.

“Yeah, positive. It always works in the movies,” my friend replies. I give him a withering look, wondering whether or not he could see it in the dark of the night. “Besides, it’s not like we have much choice,” he replies, apparently seeing my expression. He is not the protagonist. I glance backward at the jungle and can hear the crashes and roars left by whatever is following us.

“I don’t think this is a good idea. You know that movies have stunt doubles, special effects, and stuff, right?” I am absolutely positive that we are going to die, either because of the thing chasing us or the fall when we jump.

“Yeah, it’ll be alright. Trust me,” he said before jumping into the black abyss that supposedly was hiding a body of water and a waterfall. He was not holding my hand.

And I did. I trusted him, jumping off the cliff into the black unknown before our chaser could come bursting out of the jungle foliage. That was the last thing he ever said to me before the crash of water and waves engulfed me, the last thing I heard. “Trust me,” he had said, and it was all a lie.