#mllngars

The sliver of pathway stretched on towards the bridge, only after winding itself through a thicket of overgrowth, and led April along somberly. Her accusing thoughts drove stakes through her heart, and incriminated her coldly. The frigidity of the wind around her was pale in comparison to the striking iciness she was feeling. Her life had been trundling downhill since her thirteenth birthday. Presently, she was seventeen and that slope had become a slippery slide that could only end one way.

                April buried her hands in the pockets of her sweater. The woolen fabric protected her from the cold air, though her coarse brown hair was left susceptible to the cold. Her lips too, she licked them. Brown eyes acknowledged the scenery around without actually committing it to memory. She was too enraptured by her own thoughts and emotions to pay any attention to unimportant details, like the tiny yellow buds just forming on the trees, and the concert put on by the fauna. April was too sad, too depressed for any of that.

                She ambled along, shoulders hunched, head partially bowed. With each step, hair swished around her. The thick mop of brown tresses nearly brushed her waist, the result of her disinterest in herself. That permanent lethargy personified everything she did; her knotty hair, mismatched clothes, the fact that most times she forgot to eat, the deep wounds on her thighs and wrists. The sharp-mouthed adolescents at her school thought it was “fun” to call her names, once such name was “emo”. If anything and she was emo, it meant emotionally unstable and constantly unwilling to carry on her life. But, they wouldn’t have to put up with her for much longer. In fact, today was their last.

                April’s feet took her ever closer to the bridge, a Victorian era stonework bridge that only had a single metal rod as a “railing”. They made it too easy. This bridge was the light at the end of her tunnel. The old bridge was emblazoned in her mind as the pinnacle of release and freedom. Ever since April had chanced upon it during one of her nightly adventures six months ago, she had fantasized about flinging herself off. There was a rocky canal beneath, with sharp, lethal rocks jutting out from the water and countless more lurked underneath. The thought of her body bursting on those rocks was more calming than the life she led presently.

                The din generated by the rapidly flowing murky water pulled April out of her sadistic reverie. The feeling of the cool metal railing pressed against her stomach alerted her to the fact that she had reached her destination. She glanced downwards at her feet. Outside the railing was at least one foot of the bridge. It didn’t make sense standing on this side. With a few lank movements, April found herself standing on the edge of the bridge, gripping the railing backwards.

                All sorts of thoughts rushed through her brain, painful memories mostly. There was a tension in her chest and her throat was dry. This was it. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm the tempest in her mind before she jumped.

The next thing she heard wasn’t the satisfying lull of wind rushing past her, it was a voice, a male accented one.

“What’re you doin’?” The voice said, and April thought it a figment of her imagination, a “last resort mechanism”, set in motion by her brain to keep her from ending her life prematurely. She didn’t reply, and the seconds ticked on.

“Hello?” The same voice, just a bit louder. Her brain was rather persistent, wasn’t it? This time she decided that she would oblige it, humour it. She was going to die anyway. April cleared her throat.

“Yes?” Her eyes were still closed and her voice was tiny. A raucous gust of wind whipped her hair behind her, and sent the smell of the shadowy water upwards, assailing her nostrils.

“I asked what’re you doing.” The voice repeated. Funny her conscience took the shape of a male’s voice, a horribly accented one at that. It sounded throaty and surprisingly attractive. Irish it sounded? She wondered who it was based off of.

“Shouldn’t you know?” April snapped, taking another deep breath. She licked her lips again.

“Me? How should I?” This response startled April. Wasn’t her mind supposed to know everything about her? The more she thought about it, the more this voice sounded like an inquisitive bystander than a vindictive conscience trying to dissuade her from pulling the plug.

                April’s breathe hitched at the thought of a witness to her suicide. She cracked an eye and turned her head slightly to the direction the voice had come. Sure as ever, there was a guy leaning against the railing. April opened her other eye to get a good look at him.

                He had shaggy blonde hair that was unkempt and seemed hastily combed. It had brown at the roots, so she inferred that the blond was just dye. Most of his bodyweight was resting on his folded arms as he leaned on the railing. The guy seemed really tall, and quite skinny; the long-sleeved jumper and low slung jeans gave that illusion more life. A closer inspection revealed yellowing eyes, a swelling lower lip and a bruise on his cheek; he looked like he had been smoking then got in a fight, or vice versa.

“What does it look like I’m trying to do?” April snapped, casting him a menacing glare, hoping he’d get the message and leave her along so she could do what she wanted to.

“Standing too close to the edge, that’s for sure.” He said pointedly, his gaze pinned on her. April felt slightly unnerved by his attention. He continued talking. “But I don’t think that’s the only reason. What are you doing?” He emphasized the “are” in his question. He moved one of his arms to let his fingers dangle over the railing. He stared at her, letting his question hang in the air.

“I want to kill myself.” April muttered, her voice wavering and lurking in the back of her throat. She had never said those words to anyone, sure, she had thought them countless times, but it was different hearing the words actually emanating from her mouth.

She gauged the guy’s reaction. Not even the slightest hint of shock. He just stared at her, his face still.

“Why would you want to do that?” He chuckled as if the mere thought of it was unbelievable. Lethargically, he raised himself from his leaning position and sauntered closer to her, arms still crossed.

April laughed mirthlessly, and looked away, once again staring down at the river beneath. She was going to die anyway, telling one inquisitive stranger wouldn’t hurt her in the least bit, the most it would do is make him want her to jump.

“My life is crap.” April said solemnly and her face twisted into a grotesque imitation of a smile. This stranger didn’t say anything, and April took his silence as an invitation to continue her jeremiad. “For one, my parents hate me and call me names all the time.” Another emotionless laugh. “It’s not even like ‘ugly’ or ‘fat’, they call me awful names that eat away at my feelings and emotions and me feel like exactly what I am.” She paused for effect. “Like nothing.”

“And you’re going to kill yourself because of that?” He almost sounded cynical. This random guy was now standing right beside her behind the railing.

“I’m not done.” April snapped, furrowing her brow and baring her teeth involuntarily; she had a disappointingly short temper and a sharp tongue. The guy exhaled, she heard it, and fell silent. “My friends are all hypocrites, they talk behind my back. My brother is a pain in the butt, he thinks he’s some prince when he’s actually just an overzealous punk. My teachers are pressuring me. I’m ugly, just look at it.” She gestured to her stringy hair with one hand. “I’m fat, and my life is worthless overall.” She tried to stifle the sobs building in her throat.

“Done?” He asked. She nodded and looked down once more, surveying her soon-to-be watery grave. “Alright. Your life does suck. Jump off.”

“What?” April couldn’t believe her ears, was he condoning her suicide, encouraging it even?

“I said, jump off. As a matter of fact.” He paused and shuffled awkwardly over the railing to stand beside her. “I’ll jump with you.” April was positive he was going crazy. She looked at him skeptically, subconsciously committing his pristine blue eyes to memory.

“Why? No!” April retorted, raising her voice. He seemed so nonchalant about the whole situation.

“Why? Because the girl I love is about to kill herself! Why not go with? Classic Romeo and Juliet.” His words shocked April to the point where she nearly lost her footing. Her heart started beating fast.

“What are you talking about? Who are you?” April was beginning to think he had escaped from the schizophrenic ward. He wasn’t making sense to her.

“Who am I? Niall. I transferred to your school three months ago. You’re a grade below, but I’ve managed to see enough of you around to know that I want to know more.” He didn’t look at her as he spoke, he seemed to be pulling the words out of some safe deep within the folds of his heart. He chuckled softly. “Everything. I want to know everything.”

April couldn’t fathom what was going on. He realized that and continued. “I always look out for you, y’know. At least I try. I followed you to the bridge because you looked extra dreary today. It just felt like you were going to do this.” He was looking at her now, and there was pain in his eyes, an intense pain that April could almost feel.

                Nonetheless, April was too far gone to suddenly make a one-eighty degree spin for this ‘secret lover.’ She laughed emotionlessly once again, and regarded him with dour eyes.

“Pity it had to end this way.” April looked at him solemnly, his face mirroring her expression. In the next second, she had let go of the railing and her body was plummeting down from the bridge. The wind was in her ears and hair and for the first time she felt truly alive, falling to her death.

April jolted awake, her heart beating fast and sweat all over her face and neck. It took her a few long seconds to realize where she was, and to ascertain that she wasn’t dead. She also became aware of the pair of blue eyes staring at her from the darkness of the room. Her boyfriend, actually. He was holding on to her, apparently cognizant that she was having a bad dream. He turned on the night lamp that sat on the red-wood nightstand.

“Are you okay, babe?” Niall’s voice was soft and calm, he rubbed gentle circles into her arms, and pressed a kiss to her temple. His eyes observed her intently.

“Yeah, just another bad dream.” She mumbled, exhaling deeply. She buried her face in his bare chest.

“Same one?” For April had been having the same recurring dream, and they all ended the same way. He stroked her hair.

“Mhm.” She mumbled, and Niall could feel the dampness of her eyes against him, he hated it when she cried. He cuddled her up, and started humming a melody to ease her mind.

April had actually tried to kill herself, and Niall had actually confessed his love to her, and April had actually jumped anyway. It was just that Niall had jumped with her, and managed to take most of the fall. It was by some unknown miracle that they both fell in perhaps the one percent of the canal that wasn’t rocky. Niall didn’t let go of April until he was positive that they were safe on the river bank. In fact, they were taken to the hospital by a kind passer-by. Presently, it had been three years since that day, and it still haunted April.

Niall hated it. Her life was constricted by something he could’ve prevented.