The bar was freezing my fingertips. The air was eating away at me through my sweater. It was so dark and cold that I couldn’t see the water beneath me, but I heard it plain enough. Midnight on top of a lonely bridge I could hear everything. the running of the water, the falling of the snow, the rustle of the bush where a deer happened to be passing. It was so calm, so quiet, and I almost jumped when I heard a voice.
“Thats quite a long drop.”
My heart jumped into my chest, but my grip got tighter on the bars.
“Do-don’t come any closer! I swear I’ll jump if you do!”
I was frightened, but deep down I meant it, I think.
“Oh I’m not here to stop you. I’m just going to watch.”
Was this person joking. I twisted my head around to get a better look at whoever was talking. At first I thought he was just a floating head his skin was so pale white, but I could see the outlines of his bulky black jacket. His head and arms were covered with black beanie and gloves and his pants were faded black jeans. The contrast made his face light up like a lighthouse in the darkness.
“Sorry, don’t mind me,” he said while walking to lean on the railing of the bridge, “I’m like twenty feet from you. I couldn’t catch you if I tried.”
My mind woke up from the numbness of the situation.
“You get off watching girls die?” I asked jokingly.
“I think everyone does,at least secretly. I mean look at the Saw movies. Gorriest movie out there yet people flock to see people getting smashed, and cut into tiny little pieces. no I just think I am taking it one step forward by actually witnessing a death. although I wish it was daylight. You can barely see the river below in this light.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. He wanted to see me die.
“Before you jump, could I ask you for something?” he said.
“And what’s that?” I asked.
“Your story.” he said with a serious face.
“My story?”
“Yes, I mean you don’t need it anymore. You’re about to end it.”
Who is this guy. I couldn’t begin to fathom what he was thinking.What was going on in that head of his. Yet I couldn’t help but respond.
“What would you want my story for?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe your story could help save some other little girls life. Or maybe I can get rich off it, sell it to some movie writer. Maybe I could avenge your death and kill those who wronged you. Maybe I’ll never use it. But if your story is with me I can find some use for it.”
. . .. . . . . . .
“Lets start with the now?” he said. Why pick jumping off a bridge? Daddy didn’t have a gun to shoot you with?”
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