Chapter Text
It was a dark night on the bridge.
Of course, a few cars still drove by, but none noticed me hanging off the edge of the bridge, my grip on the bars slowly faltering. In contrast to my black hoodie and pants, a white belt wrapped itself around my throat, attached to my bag on the other side of the bars. In my right hand, a dagger sat patiently, waiting for me to pull it out.
Thoughts circled through my head, each more criticising than the last.
It was your fault. You didn't do anything. You could've prevented the accident. It should've been you instead, you know it. You should've died. YOU PUT THEM IN PAIN. YOU KILLED THEM. IT WAS ALL YOUR FUCKING FAULT.
Tears dripped down the side of my face, past my cheeks and chin, eventually falling off and splashing into the river beneath me.
It was time. The guilt was too much.
With my right hand, I reached into my hoodie's front pocket and with a shaky grip, lifted the dagger out and held it to my throat. My other hand loosely held the bar while my feet stood on the bottom part of the bridge.
Get it over and done with, Clay.
The dagger was pressed against my throat.
Don't back out now, Clay. You deserve this.
I swallowed, feeling the metal against my Adam's Apple.
Do it you fucking--
"Please, don't do that."
I faltered. It was a new voice, laced with a British accent. I could tell.
"This doesn't have to happen."
Slowly, I looked up to see a short man standing before me on the footpath. To the left, I noticed a car parked before the bridge, and I assumed it was his.
I could see a light emitting from his right right hand. His phone.
He's calling someone.
I wasn't stupid, and it seemed like he knew it as well. Suddenly, he put his phone on the ground and nudged it a little further from the two of us.
"Please, step over the bridge."
His voice was smooth, soothing in a way. But it's not time for those thoughts.
Finally, I found my voice, "No."
He seemed unaffected by my response. He kept talking, "You don't have to do this. You're hesitating."
I froze at that. What?
"You know nothing about me. Let me die in peace, you're only making this harder."
"I won't leave until you step over the rail, back onto the ground."
Goddammit, this British idiot.
"Let me die in peace! Your only making this harder, so much fucking harder…" my voice broke off towards the end of my sentence, turning to a near-whisper.
The man visibly gulped, but tentatively took a small step forward. I raised my dagger to my throat, my grip stronger now.
It was his turn to freeze.
"Take once fucking step closer and I'll cut my throat," I hated how my voice wavered as I spoke.
The man stopped moving completely and raised his hands slightly, slowly kneeling onto the floor, "It doesn't have to end like this," he repeated again.
I was getting sick if repeating myself, "But it fucking does have to happen! I do have to die! It was my FUCKING fault that all this shit happened!"
This time, he did flinch when I raised my voice, but stayed where he was.
I continued, "You can't change what's already happened! If I could, I wouldn't be here, yelling at a stranger with a dagger to my throat!"
He looked as if he was about to speak up, but I cut Infront, "No, you don't get to fucking speak. You know NOTHING about me, what I've been through and why I'm doing this. Why couldn't you have been like everyone else?! Why couldn't you have driven past and ignored what I was doing and how I was feeling?! WHY COULDN'T YOU HAVE BEEN LIKE EVERYONE ELSE AND FUCKING LEFT ME ALONE?!"
A long silence followed. No bugs chittered or chirped, no cars drove by on the nearby road. I couldn't even hear anything anyway. All I could see was him, this strange man before me, a calm expression present on his face.
Behind him, I could see the ghost of my parents and my sister, all ghostly pale and opaque, blood splattered all over their battered bodies.
The flashbacks came.
The spinning, the nausea, my head banging against the window, the screams from my sister, blood being splattered everywhere, glass in my fingers, my father dead in the driver's seat, my mother dead in the passenger's seat, my crying sister calling out to me, my legs being crushed by the broken seat, my parents staring back at me, the guilt seeping in…
Snippets of the hospital followed.
Drista lying still on the bed, my hand gripping her's with the last of my strength, doctors speaking in monotone voices, friends and family speaking to me, my friend embracing me in the tightest hug ever, tears dripping down my face, headaches, so many headaches, complicated screens, the heartline faltering… the heartline laying flat, a dreaded beeping sound coming after, doctors pushing me outside, yells of panic through the hospital's halls, more guilt seeping in…
Finally, the funeral.
The grey sky, light droplets of rain, coffins being lowered into the ground, whispers floating all around me, the prayers and apologies that meant nothing, a warm but faraway hand in my shoulder, a bundle of bright flowers slacking in my grip, my knees falling to the ground, my mind spiralling as all of the guilt filled my body and my mind, my yells of sadness and forgiveness reaching no one…
A breathy sigh snapped my from my darkest memories, and I noticed the short man and put himself in a criss cross position; he seemed to be comfortable now.
"I do know what you've been through. Maybe not to your extent, but I know how intense the guilt can feel."
I was shocked. I gulped silently, my grip on the dagger still not loosening.
I waited for him to continue, "It was my sister. She… was too lost in her thoughts, her mental health lowered as well, and one day, she decided to end her misery. No one knew until three days later, she was found in her apartment, her body hanging limply by a rope to the ceiling. I blamed myself for not noticing sooner."
He paused for a minute, seeming to stop himself from crying at his own words of the past, "Guilt. That was all I felt. The guilt of not knowing sooner. The guilt of not helping her sooner. The guilt of not knowing her body had been hanging for three days in her apartment. Thinking everything was fine--" he finally cracked, sobs escaping and tears running freely down his cheeks. Immediately, he tried to pull himself together, desperately wiping his cheeks and eyes, his hiccuping coming to a stop.
He breathed in for a few seconds, then exhaled.
He looked back up at me, "This was only a few months ago. I'm still sensitive to hear her name, I can rarely talk to anyone about her now, I've ghoster everyone I know… yet it was so easy to talk to a stranger about it all," He wiped the final tears away from his face, "but this isn't meant to be about me."
I had almost forgotten what I came out here to do.
To end your pathetic life, my brain supplied.
To help this strange, short, British man out, as well as yourself, my heart spoke.
I was stunned now. A new feeling swelled in my chest.
Did I really want this? To end my life? Would my family want me to do this?
...No, they wouldn't.
...But would they?
As slow as ever, I lowered my hand holding the dagger, placing it back into my hoodies pocket. The Brit noticed and perked up slightly. He looked towards the quiet road for a second, before looking back at me, "... What are your hobbies?"
It was a random question, but I answered anyway, not even caring how stupid my answer would sound, "Gaming. Minecraft."
He perked up again, "Really? I play sometimes too. I code some plugins for it. I… used to play with my friends all the time, making challenges and whatnot."
"Wow. What a coincidence." Somehow, I found a small smile make its way onto my face. It felt nice to genuinely smile again.
He broke out into a sunny smile as well, "Well, I'm thinking a Minecraft session in the future might not sound so bad,"
... Right. I'm still standing on the side of a bridge with a belt around my throat.
Again, the man noticed I looked to the side, and my hands itching to fiddle with the belt. Again, he moved towards me with slow steps, afraid that I'd burst again.
But I didn't this time. Not again.
Finally, he was right in front of me. His hand reached out to delicately touch mine, and all I could think was warmth.
It wasn't distant like before. I knew this man was right near me.
"We can heal together. We can get better together, and fight this guilt. We can become friends maybe, play Minecraft together. Please. Please."
And this time, without hesitation, I nodded.