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The late night heat in New Orleans engulfed the city, clinging most strongly where it was least desired. In the summer it seemed you did not know where your skin ended and the world began; the only indicator being the trickling sweat that found its way down from your brow, your chest, and private areas. In front of the Mississippi River, the only thing that could stop you from stowing away on a boat and sailing far, far away was the lack of ambition to make a change.
Alone sat one girl with the remnants of what would constitute a good night on Bourbon Street: A pretty dress, smudged makeup, and an absence of a bag she thought she was holding.
This brought the girl back to reality, causing her to stand after staring out into the waters for an indeterminate amount of time. Where was her bag? In her stumble to rise she started shifting through the grass and dirt where she was sitting and ultimately came to the conclusion that she had left it somewhere during the night.
She tried to think of where but could not come to a definite answer. All that remained in her memory were flashes of colors, snippets of music, and blurred faces she could not place with anyone she remembered. In fact, she could not remember anyone. All that seemed to exist were the body of water in front of her, and the dirty hands grasping at her heart as the weight of existence pressed down on her all at once.
A choked sob emerged from her constricted chest as she collapsed into herself, grasping at the ground and trying to connect herself with reality. She knew she wasn't in her right mind, she knew she could be fine, but while glancing out into the empty river with no other soul in sight, something tender in her snapped. This was all that was, and this is all there would ever be, and her story would end there.
Rising on previously uneasy legs she stood and stepped with determination that she had not possessed in a long time. Despite this new found control of her body she could not stop the flood of tears running out of her eyes and the shaking that accompanied every movement.
She wasn't surprised it would end like this, but disappointed. She spent so much time battling her mind to create a life worth living only for it to slip out of her trembling hands after one bad night. The girl supposed if she couldn't hold onto life after one bad night, she didn't deserve it anyway. A few final sobs racked her body as she made her way to her final destination.
The bridge was unimposing but large, it would do.
As she neared the bridge she saw the first person she had seen sense fleeing the French quarter hours ago. He leaned casually against a light post, holding a cigarette in two fingers and looking out upon the water with disinterest.
The girl walked past him quickly, buzzing with adrenaline waiting to do the inevitable. In her rush, her eyes strayed to the man and stopped in her tracks.
He was beautiful, frighteningly so. His bright green eyes contrasted with his light brown skin giving his face an uncanny appearance. Her first instinct after making eye contact with the man was to run, but she couldn't move. She tried to step forward towards the bridge but all she could do was keep staring into those inhuman green eyes.
Despite the unknown mixture of substances pumping through her bloodstream, she knew she was in danger. Still frozen in place, she looked to take stock of the man before her. He looked so normal. His hair was intentionally shaped and laid softly behind his ears while he was dressed in a black button up and jeans. His clothing choice did little to hide the power he exuded: his jeans were tailored perfectly to his body and he carried himself like someone with wealth. Looking back into his eyes, she wasn't just fearful of his opulence but his hungry stare that seemed to see through her.
She tried to pull her gaze away, her body away, but she could not.
“Come.”
The man under the lamp post stated plainly and the girl’s body responded like that is what it wanted to do all along. She started shaking again as she stood before him, the tears once again flooding from her eyes. She knew this was the end, she wanted it to be the end, and she supposed that it didn't have to be on her terms.
The man put his cigarette out on the lamp and moved closer to her, gently grabbing her chin and forcing her to look into his eyes once again. She could not help the flood of tears that rushed down onto his hand as he seemed to search through her entire short life only to find that what it contained wasn't worth the effort of sorting through it.
“You are not long for this world” the man stated softly, but definitively.
“I know” the girl stated clearly, with no tears left to shed she found a new calm washing over her. The man’s soft hand moved to grasp her cheek and delicately rubbed her temple.
Her calm feeling only deepened, washing over her like an ocean of bliss. Any stray thoughts got washed away and all that remained was the repeating mantra:
No more pain, no more pain, no more pain, no more pain…
She couldn't tell if the thought was hers or if it floated to her from somewhere else, and she didn't care. In that moment the world beyond her mind seemed foreign and unimportant, her calm was all that mattered. Her bliss was only slightly interrupted by a strong, unmoving grip on her head and a sharp puncture into her neck. She could feel herself collapse and could feel the pain as her life was drained away, but could not find the energy to open her eyes. The girl simply returned to the calm stowed away in the corner of her mind and stayed there as she slowly faded away.