Write = Get Reviews Forum Through The Rough: Prolouge

It's never dark at night anymore. It's all I can think about as the moon starts to rise, and the stars come out, hidden behind all the light pollution. I walk along a brightly lit highway. There's no one here except the druggies and homeless but they don't bother me. Not anymore.

 When I was a kid, nights came fast and dark and you had to be home before the streetlights where on. Like monsters where going to come out and eat you if we weren't home before the first star peered out of the black, milky sky. I always fought against my parents, I wanted to stay out all night long to play, but now I know it's true. Monsters do come out at night, but not like I thought when I was young. There’s the girls with barely any clothes on, hiding out under bridges and street corners, hoping they'll make enough tonight to buy a pack of cigarettes and some food, there faces are so beautifully made up but they look like corpses. Already Dead. The kids with pockmarked faces, searching the alleyways for their next fix, I want to shake them, to tell them “I was one of you and look at me now. Go home while you still can.” But I know they won't listen to me, I wouldn't have either. There's the elderly who lay on the side of the street, no longer searching for seclusion or privacy, their eyes dead as they look at the throngs of people walking along, ignoring them. As if they aren't there. As if they aren't human too. The bridge is old and large, covering the biggest river in the city, so wide and deep that it's still not frozen. People come here in the summer, they gather along the beaches below, like it's a proper ocean or lake. They camp in the surrounding forest and have parties and gatherings, the smell of barbequed meat floats up to the bridge and the hungry people moan and shout down at them. Kids swim in the river, they paddle along and play with their dogs. But not tonight. It's the dead of winter. The water is thrashing against the posts driven down into the earth, holding the bridge up like long, skinny arms, reaching out of the freezing water. Just so people can drive to more places. It starts to rain. My swollen ankles beg me to rest but I know I'm almost there. To the middle of the bridge. Where there wont be any homeless or night walkers. Just me, and the river. And the baby, I guess.

 It was summer time when I found out. So hot, that everything seemed to be melting. Girls walking past me with eyeshadow, mascara, eyeliner sliding down their faces. Business men out for lunch meetings in their thousand dollar suits, looking like they had just climbed out of the river. Last summer it was as if everything would just stop. All the air conditioners just couldn't deal with the heat so they decided to leave, calling the power lines with them, see you later, be back this winter, wish you were here. The city had rolling black outs that would last for hours, causing chaos everywhere you went. The business men stalled at restaurants, waiting for people who never showed. Family’s out for the day, begrudgingly climbing into their cars and heading home. Nothing is open when the power stops. After a long time of roaming the city, I had found a home. It was just far enough that nobody from the real world would ever show up, but not too far that I couldn't walk to the main drag and make money on the tourists. A little fountain tucked away from everyone and everything. Just what I needed. I set up a little camp for myself with a sleeping bag I found and would lay with my legs in the fountain, scooping water up and pouring it down my face. For some reason I kept remembering that night, painful flashes in my brain like strobe lights, showing me things I would rather forget. I kept pushing it out of my mind. I was so stupid. I didn't want to think about it. I just wanted to forget about it and move on with my life. Or whatever was left of it. The thought came sudden, as they all did, but this one I couldn't push away. I left my fountain and walked around the corner to the convenience store. I didn't have any money so I waited out front until a big group entered. I slipped in like I was one of them, although anyone could see I clearly wasn't. Bleached hair, tanned skin, expensive clothes. I looked like a rat scurrying in for scraps. Making a beeline to the health aisle I looked over at the clerk, he was focused on ringing up one of the barbie dolls, flirting heavily. I wanted to throw up. I quickly opened the box, slipped it in my pocket, put the box back and left. I walked until I couldn't bare it anymore, then I ran. I ran all the way to my fountain and then kept going, as if I could run away from my thoughts. I reached the homeless shelter and flew into the bathroom before some annoying volunteer could ask me about my life. Waiting was the worst. Actually, the answer was the worst. How am I going to do this? 

I blink away tears. And keep walking. Finally I reach the middle of the bridge. The place where the drop is the highest and the water is the deepest. I stare out over the angry water and can't help but feel a kinship with it. I love it, yet I know the water does not love me. It will kill me as soon as it will save me. She starts crying. I look down at her big, blue eyes and I can't help it, I've been trying so hard to keep it in, but a sob escapes from my lips. A sound like something is dying. Which is pretty accurate. I bend over and allow my self three seconds of panic, then I have to get it together. I cry. Hard. So hard I can't see. Then I stop, straighten up and focus. I set her down on the wide railing and press my palms against it's cool, stony surface. I feel the years, how many storms has this bridge survived? How many winters? How strong does this bridge have to be to carry everyone safely across, let alone their hopes? Their dreams? I push myself up and swing my leg over and settle into a sitting position, looking out over the water. I pick up the writhing infant next to me, I haven't even named her. I stand under the weight of a thousand tears, they try to hold me down, my legs threaten to collapse under the burden, a heavy blanket of virgin snow starts coming down. Virgin. I was a virgin once. I clutch my baby to my chest, holding her close. I hope she understands that to let her live would be killing her all the same. Either it's quick and painless or its slow and humiliating. Better to die before she starts living. Before she meets the monsters of the real world. I stand, between life and death, on the railing of the oldest bridge in the city. I hold her close to me. Smelling her soft hair, dark like mine. Skin almost as pale as the snow. I feel her warmth radiate into my chest. I wish it could thaw my heart, mend my broken mind. I kiss the top of her head. And say “Celia”. Her name is Celia. And then I jump. 

   
They land in the water, punching through the frozen waves and straight to the bottom. Their bodies tumble down the massive river, the current pushing and pulling them every which way until finally carrying them to shore. The girl with the dark hair looks up at the night sky, eyes unblinking. Dead. The grass shuffles nearby. A baby cries.