Chapter 1
Fuck it. I’m are so tired of everything. Of crying myself to sleep. Of being bullied. Of cutting, burning, or harming myself in any way possible. I’m done. I stand on the roof of the apartment building I live in. Used to live in. Whatever. 20 stories up has to be enough to kill me, right? I don’t care how high I am or how long it takes as long as I’m dead by the time I hit the ground. I call 911, knowing they won’t be there in time. Not for any reason other than so that hopefully the person who finds me isn't a poor little kid.
I’m sitting on the edge now. I hear the 911 dispatcher in the back of my mind. I cant make out what he says, even though any normal person could understand clearly; ”Don’t do it. Stay on the phone with me. Don’t go anywhere.” I hear the panic in his voice, and part of me feels bad for him. Wasting so much time and energy trying to keep me from jumping when in reality we both know it will happen. The poor guy probably hasn't even worked there for long, he will probably take of a week of work after today for counselling. I don’t care. I mean, I do, but it doesn't bother me as much as it should. Besides, he can’t really know how I feel, can he?
I take one last deep breath. I lean forward, pushing myself off the edge easily, never even hanging up the phone. I can hear the man frantically trying to get my attention from the center only ten short minutes away from this building. I fall, for what seems like forever, then hit the ground. Hard. But somehow, uninjured. For a moment, I curse in my head. Was that really not high enough?But I quickly realize, I didn’t hit the ground. Someone caught me. I honestly expect to look up and see a firefighter or policeman or something. It shouldn't be possible for them to be there that quickly, but maybe I lost track of time. But no. Instead, I glance upwards to see a young boy, probably about 16, my age. Messy raven hair, gloves covering the palm and back of his hands, leaving his fingers uncovered and vulnerable. Light skin. Dark leather jacket. Black skinny jeans.
“You could’ve gotten hurt” he whispers in my ear, and despite what was going through my mind only four seconds before, all I can think of now is how beautiful he is, how seductive his voice is even in only those four words.
“That was kind of the point.” I respond, in fake irritation, not letting on that this total stranger has completely captured my attention and heart.
“I know the feeling” he sets me down gently, not realizing that I heard his comment, before walking off. Then he freezes, spins gracefully back toward me, and it allows me to notice the intensity of his hazel eyes, flecked with green. I see love in them, contemplation on what to say and do.
“Walk with me?” he asks, a slight waver in his voice, but I can tell how fake this 'uncertainty' is. Pretending not to be confident when I can tell you confidently that he knows exactly what he is doing and he is so confident that his plan will eventually work if he continues just a little longer, when he doesn’t know it already has.
“Sure” I tell him crisply, pushing my purple-stained black hair out of my face. I pretend to be out of sorts, as I ultimately hope he can’t read my every twitch like I can his.
