Decisions

A Story by Walter McPickle

You never know how a simple word, action or decision may impact your life, or that of another person. The decision to act or not, speak up or remain quiet, can send alter your journey entirely

Right hand. Left hand. Right foot. Pull up. Plant left foot. Repeat.

The process continually looped through his head as he made his way up the side of

the hill. He realized that it was steeper than he’d remembered. And finding hand and

foot holds was proving to be an almost impossible task, especially in the dark. Thomas

had abandoned his flashlight at the base of the hill. After terrorizing his elbow on a

jagged rock, he quickly deduced that he would need both free hands to climb.

Right hand.

He could feel new cuts forming on his hands. Each slight slip or loose grip on

a rock or tree root ripped a new gash in his beaten and bloody paws. He imagined his

hands looking similar to those of a boxer or prize fighter. Sore, broken, almost useless.

Left hand.

He searched for something to grasp. His hand brushed against the hard, cold edge

of a large rock. He felt for a groove or cut in the rock to hook his fingers around. He

didn’t need much. Being right-handed, he was overcompensating by placing most of

the weight on his strong arm. At this point, his left served little purpose, other than

helping to keep his balance.

Right foot.

Pain shot through his extremities as his weight shifted from the pulling of his arms

to the pushing of his legs. The majority of his weight was now on his right leg, and

gravity was laughing at him. He teetered, but quickly steadied himself by slamming his

left foot down next to his right.

Pull up. Left foot!

He’d forgotten the game plan. His left foot slipped slightly. Thomas quickly

lowered himself onto the hill. Rocks and debris jabbed into his chest, but at this point

he didn’t care. The thought of tumbling back down the hill was a sobering one, and

helped organize his current priorities.

Make it to the top of the hill. Don’t die. Not yet.

He decided to take a breather. He peered towards what he assumed to be the top

of the hill. The pitch black prevented him from gauging exactly how far he’d climbed.

The throbbing pain that raced through his body was the only thing convincing him that

he wasn’t scaling the hill in the wrong direction. That, and the fact that he had nearly

fallen backwards seven or eight times.

His hands shook as he loosened his grip slightly. His arms began to cramp and a

sense of panic crept over him. Get it together, Thomas. Slowly stretch your arms. The

feeling will pass. He extended his right arm, hoping to restart the circulation and avoid

the oncoming cramp. His fingers struck something hard. It wasn’t a rock. His arm was

too high above the ground. He reached slightly further and his hand bumped

against something large. He quickly recognized the cool, stony feel of the side of the

bridge. He’d reached the top.

The crisp night air sliced through him like a knife. His jacket was at the bottom

of the hill with the flashlight. Perhaps it was more than a breeze that was chilling him to

the bone. Get a hold of yourself. You are here for a reason, so let’s just get this over

with. Thomas worked himself into a seated position on the ledge of the bridge. He

glanced down and could make out a large, dark mass below. He knew this mass to be a

huge lake that could only be crossed via the bridge he was now sitting atop of. He

attempted to slide farther down the ledge, so that he would be directly over the center of

the lake. This proved to be a bad decision. He lost his balance and had to fight to keep

himself from toppling from the bridge. He was still for a moment, and then laughter

erupted from deep in his gut. The cold air slapped him in the face for a second time.

Maybe laughing wasn’t a good idea. Thoughts raced through his head. He wondered

how many people had sat here before him. How many had ventured to this exact spot,

ready to end it all? Maybe their spirits were reaching out to him, begging him to

reconsider or beckoning him to join them. He fought the urge to laugh again. Surely,

the painfully cold breeze was nothing more than air whipping across the water below, or

some other form of scientific mumbo jumbo. He really didn’t have the energy to analyze

the issue. He probably lacked the intellect to grasp the concept regardless.

Thomas had never really excelled in academics. He half-assed his way through

high school, decided to buckle down in college, made fairly good grades, and was then

struck by a crippling case of senioritis. As he neared graduation, he lost all focus on his

studies. The last semester of college was tough for him. He was ready to get the piece of

paper and get out of there. He’d suddenly become more interested in drinking large

quantities of alcohol, rather than spending a few hours reading a chapter, or writing a

paper. It was around this time that he met Jenny.

Jenny, with her long, dark hair, her dark complexion. And her eyes. He had gotten lost in

those eyes, having spent hours staring into them. Many times he would find himself

stumbling over words when she asked what he was staring at. He would tremble when

she forced him to snap out of his trance. She never had any problems taking his breath

away. Just like the first time they met.

He was sitting in class, contemplating the difficulty of breezing through with a C,

and being one step closer to getting out of the dump, when she walked in. The room was

beginning to fill up, but there were plenty of empty seats near Thomas. He had arrived

early, of course. Fifteen minutes to be exact. He liked to get to class before everyone so

that he could have free reign over seat selection. He was always annoyed when a total

stranger would plop down next to him, especially if there were empty seats all over the

room. Therefore, he developed a strategy for choosing his seat in class. He would sit

next to the wall, positioning himself so that he could view the entire room. This

prevented students from sitting behind or directly next to him. Jenny told him once that

he had serious control issues. He told her to shut up. She was right.

When Jenny entered the room, everyone stopped what they were doing. She

strolled in gracefully, almost appearing to float. He would learn that this came

naturally for her. She didn’t care who was looking or what they thought of her. He

watched as she glanced around. He was rethinking his seating choice when it happened.

She looked his way and their eyes locked. In that simple, brief exchange he found

himself falling for her. He looked away, feeling every bit as embarrassed as someone

who has just realized that their fly is open. When he glanced back, she was standing

directly next to him.

“Hi. Is anyone sitting here?”

Her voice was like heaven, only in his eardrums. It reminded him of all the

pleasant things in life. The way soda burns the back of your throat when you chill it

just enough. The feeling you receive when you wake up before your alarm goes off

and you realize you can sleep for another hour. The cool, refreshing breeze that teases

your skin during the first few weeks of Fall. Her voice was all of those things to him. He

wanted to hear her speak again, but realized that he had yet to answer her question. One

second more and his silence would venture into the realm of being creepy.

“No. No one is sitting here,” he stammered.

“Good. I don’t really want to sit anywhere else. You are the only other normal

looking person in here,” she replied, while pulling the chair out. She sat down, or more

so, floated into a seated position.

Two seconds after meeting, they were already hitting it off, or so he thought. The

class proved to be a piece of cake. Thomas and Jenny helped each other with every

assignment that was presented. He found that class work was much more enjoyable

when performed as a team. By the midway point of the semester, they were inseparable.

Jenny would call Thomas when she arrived at school and he would walk her to class.

They would eat lunch together everyday. After school, they would hang out, go to

a movie, or just drive around. Jenny monopolized a large portion of Thomas’s day.

If they weren’t together, they were on the phone. She knew where he was and what

he was doing twenty-four hours a day. His grades began to slip because he allowed

himself to focus most of his energy on making Jenny happy. He was infatuated with her,

but he was ok with it. He was determined to win her heart, even if was forced to give up

his freewill to be at her every beck and call.

And now here he sat, on the edge of a bridge, soon to end his life. That’s right,

Thomas. Soon to end your life. The thought of dying reverberated through his mind.

He felt embarrassed. He felt like such a fool. He tried to push Jenny from his mind.

“You know what your problem is, Thomas? You gave her too much control. Yep.

You opened yourself up to her and look where it got you. Sitting on a bridge, about to

plunge to your death. Oh, and better yet, you’ve resorted to talking to yourself.

Excellent!”

He made a mental decision to stop talking aloud. Instead, he decided to resort back

to questioning his decision to come here. He’d questioned his motives multiple times

during the climb up the hill. He knew how others would view his suicide. Often, suicide

attempts center around a cry for help. I don’t want attention. No. I’m stronger than that.

Strong, but not strong enough to continue living. In his heart, he knew that he could not

go on. Not without Jenny. I have nothing to live for.

He could never decipher Jenny’s true feelings towards him. She would say and do

things that screamed “I love you,” but follow these up with actions that demanded that

Thomas back off.

“Thomas, answer your phone. I’ve left you like seven messages. The weather is

bad and I’m worried about you. Just let me know you are ok.”

He received the voicemail late. His phone was turned off. He was at home, safe

and sound, but was dead to the world. It had been a rough day at work and all he wanted

to do was sleep. He deleted the message and began dialing Jenny’s number. He was

interrupted by a knock at the door. On ring number two, he turned the knob of the

apartment door. He heard the ring from outside and knew it was Jenny. She shoved

the door open before he could move out of the way. It smacked him in the head,

knocking his cell phone to the floor.

“What the hell? Why are you avoiding me?” she demanded, barging into the

apartment.

“I think you just gave me a concussion.”

“I thought you were dead, or lying in a ditch somewhere.”

“Can we start this whole encounter over, minus the door hitting me in the head?”

“Not until you tell me what is going on.”

“Work sucked. I needed some alone time,” he responded, still holding his

throbbing forehead.

“When you say “alone time,” do you mean…..,” Jenny trailed off.

Thomas collapsed on the couch and Jenny headed to the kitchen to get some ice for

his head.

“You know, you really shouldn’t do that kind of stuff to people who care about

you. If you were dead, I would have killed myself too,” Jenny stated from the kitchen.

“You care about me? Does that mean, like, you love me?”

“I’m just saying.”

When she returned to the room, Thomas noticed tears in her eyes. He melted

inside. In his heart, he knew. In his mind, he questioned everything.

Back on the bridge, the tears came for Thomas. He glanced around, ready to

straighten himself up if someone happened to pass by. He then remembered that he was

sitting on the ledge of a bridge. Surely, being caught crying was the least of his worries.

In fact, why was he still sitting on the ledge? The deed should have been done by now.

He pondered the thought that he might be getting cold feet. Tears diminished, and the

laughter returned. This time, it was uncontrollable. Again, he almost lost his balance.

He quickly gripped the ledge, steadying himself. He glanced down at his hands,

his dirty, torn hands. He remembered all of the times Jenny had held them, touched

them. He remembered how that touch made him feel.

He flashed back to a night he and Jenny were sitting in a bar. He remembered

having to use his hand to wave the thick cloud of cigarette smoke from his face. He felt

ridiculous doing so, almost as if he were swatting at invisible flies. He glanced around

the crowded facility. He hated places like this. Too many people inside to allow for

personal space. Jenny was pressed closely to him. They waited by the oak bar,

contemplating how long it would take for one of the two female bartenders to

acknowledge them . Jenny leaned towards him and said something about “flower

arrangements,” or was it “Power Rangers?” It really could have been either one. Thomas

feigned as if he’d understood her and nodded his head. She cast him a questioning look

and then began to laugh, knowing that he hadn’t heard her. She reached over and

squeezed his hand. His knees almost buckled, and he leaned on the bar to hide the bodily

failure. Jenny glanced around, didn’t like the people surrounding them, and moved closer

to Thomas. Several times already she’d declared him as “her boyfriend,” in an attempt to

fend off the advances of guys trying to hit on her. Thomas was surprised when the ploy

didn’t work. He realized that most guys aren’t easily deterred by boyfriends, or even

wedding rings, especially when alcohol is involved. As he surveyed the mass of

humanity around them, he felt nothing but disgust and contempt for the male species. It

was precisely these idiots that gave nice guys like Thomas a bad reputation. Nice guys

spend so much time trying to reverse this misconception that they miss out on

opportunities with women who might be good for them. He chuckled at the thought,

although it really made him want to vomit. Who was he kidding? Women flock to these

a******s.

Lost in thought, Thomas almost didn’t realize that Jenny had grabbed his hand and

was now leading him to the dance floor.

“Nothing good will come out of this,” he stated, attempting to be heard over the

deafening music.

“What? You said you can’t wait to dance? Awesome! Me too!” she replied.

Thomas rolled his eyes. The feeling of dread was overcome by a sense of

achievement. Suddenly, breaking out his mad dance skills didn’t seem so bad. He was

even somewhat excited. Jenny was holding his hand! Again! He also couldn’t help but

imagine the eminent bumping and grinding that was to come. Probably more bumping,

due to my two left feet. They reached the floor and he quickly realized that he and Jenny

shared a total of about five inches of space to maneuver. Things were looking better for

him with every passing minute. He looked into Jenny’s face and found himself lost in

her eyes yet again. She smiled and playfully punched him.

“Quit staring at me, you weirdo.”

“I don’t know where else to look. And I’m not really sure what to do with my

hands right now,” Thomas replied.

She grabbed his arms and wrapped them around her. Thomas froze. He longed for

the moment to continue forever. Instead, he would have to settle for it lasting only three

minutes. From across the bar, someone waved for Jenny to come over. It was

another guy. Thomas found himself standing alone on the dance floor. He quickly

retreated to a corner of the bar. He waited there for fifteen minutes, fully expecting Jenny

to wrap up her conversation and rejoin him. He finally attempted to locate her. She was

exactly where he’d left her, on the dance floor. She was dancing with the other guy.

Thomas spent the rest of the evening watching the spectacle. Anger pulsed through his

body. Sometimes he couldn’t comprehend why it was necessary for him to be teased by

situations like this. They had shared a moment, and suddenly it was ripped away. He’d

been so excited about taking a step forward with Jenny, and then suddenly it was gone.

And now she was dancing with another guy, a total loser. I wonder if people ever say the

same thing about me?

For the next few days, Jenny attempted to contact him. He ignored her calls,

avoided being home when he knew she might drop by. She’d hurt him, and he wanted

her to understand that. The problem came when he finally gave in and talked to her. His

feelings didn’t come out the way he’d intended.

“I just felt like since you went to the bar with me, you should have hung out with

me,” Thomas stated.

“I did hang out with you. Are you jealous because I was with that other guy?”

“No, I just felt stupid standing around by myself. You kind of left me high and

dry.”

“Thomas, he was just a friend of mine that I hadn’t seen in awhile. Besides, you

just left me at the bar. If anyone should be mad, it’s me,” Jenny responded, a little too

defensively for Thomas’s taste.

He was angry again. He turned to walk away, but Jenny grabbed him.

“You can’t get mad every time I talk to another guy, or show attention to someone

else. You and I are just friends, remember?”

This was the wrong thing to say. Thomas felt as if she’d reached up and chopped

him directly in the throat. And while he felt as if she was trying to press his buttons and

didn’t mean it the way it sounded, he also thought her statement may have contained

some truth. Maybe she only saw him as a friend, and it would always remain that way.

Thomas pounded the side of the bridge with his hand. The simple thought of the

conversation made him as angry as the day it occurred. As he sat on the bridge, he began

playing a game. He tried to recollect all of the times he’d felt as if Jenny was trying to

shoot him down. He thought of all of the bad or hurtful moments they’d shared. Next,

he tried to remember all of the positive moments she’d given him. He played this game

often. If the good moments outnumbered the bad, he knew Jenny loved him. If the bad

won, well, he would just recount. And he would continue recounting until the good

overcame the bad. However, there was something about being on the bridge that

prevented him from being able to come up with enough good moments for the win.

Thomas leaned against the side of the bridge. The cold concrete forced him to

quickly sit back up. He glanced back at the monstrosity. The dark, ominous

structure loomed over him, casting a shadow that enveloped his spot on the bridge, as

well as much of the surrounding area. He’d always viewed the bridge as a living being.

During the day, the bridge was a beautiful, timeless landmark. It’s old fashioned

look attracted sightseers from all over. Countless numbers of pictures had been taken on

and around the bridge, as well as throughout the hills and overhangs on either side of it.

The beauty of the bridge existed within its foundation. Most bridges these days were

entirely concrete, and while this bridge was partially concrete, much of it was

constructed from stone that one might picture on a castle. Thomas often took boat rides

past the bridge. The bottom of the bridge reminded him of a great archway, a special

place when passed under.

Thomas usually stayed away from the bridge after dark. Something changed

when the sun went down. It went from a magnificent landmark to a mysterious being

that emerged at night. From across the water, the bridge resembled a cloaked head

emerging from the river. Two red lights marked the underside of the bridge to warn

boaters of its existence. The lights shone over the water as two eyes peering from under

the hood of the cloak. The stone sides of bridge formed what looked to be a face. He

remembered staring at the face for a long time, until a chill ran down his back. What

was originally a face had suddenly merged into a skull. It gazed out at him, following his

every move.

The bridge was more than just a monument, or a demonic being watching

those who ventured past. It served as a link between two areas of the city. On one side

of the bridge was the wealthy part of town, where the upper class citizens lived. On the

other, the middle and lower class citizens. He’d often crossed the bridge in route to

Jenny’s apartment, and felt a change the minute he left his side of the bridge. It was

a feeling that he didn’t belong on her side of town.

Thomas and Jenny spent countless evenings on the bank of the river, far down

from the bridge. They would drink beer, chat, go for a late night swim. Jenny

was always nervous about entering the murky water after sundown. Thomas would wade

into the water until it reached his chest. Jenny would wait five minutes to make sure

nothing “ate” Thomas. She would then tiptoe gingerly through the water,

until she reached him. They would float there for hours, Jenny’s arms wrapped around

his neck, her legs around his waist, their faces mere inches apart. As the water

temperature dropped, she would cling tighter to him. His teeth would begin to chatter

from both the cold water and the feeling of nervousness that had crept over him. His

mind always seemed to lock onto the thought of what would happen next, or the

possibility of what might happen next. Jenny would always let out a snicker or giggle

when she heard his teeth rattling. This made things even worse, whereas not only was

he nervous, but she’d suddenly embarrassed him as well. He couldn’t remember the

number of times that he’d dunked her underwater for laughing at him. She emerged

each time laughing, sputtering and spitting water. She would playfully slap him across

the chest.

“You’re a jerk!”

“You were laughing at me,” Thomas would retaliate.

“I wasn’t laughing at you. I was laughing with you,” Jenny replied.

“I wasn’t laughing.”

They would fake argue for awhile, and then she would reassume her original

position, arms and legs wrapped around him. Many times he fought the urge to kiss her.

One kiss could elevate their relationship to the next level. Or one kiss could push her

away forever. When all else failed, he attempted to search her eyes, looking for any sign

that she wanted to take things further, but it was always too dark.

Thomas crossed his arms across his chest in an attempt to keep warm. He realized

that he’d been day dreaming again. He was no longer chest deep in the river, but sitting

on the side of the stone bridge that he’d sworn to never approach after dark. He hadn’t

noticed the raindrops that were beginning to fall around him. The occasional droplets

turned to a steady downpour. Thomas looked towards the sky in time to catch a flash of

light rip across the heavens. Seconds later, thunder rumbled in the distance. He’d never

bought into the idea of irony, but sitting on the bridge in the middle of the night, just

minutes from ending his life changed his opinion. A thunderstorm made perfect sense.

Lightning raced across the sky again. “Irony,” he thought. “How ironic would it

be for lightning to strike and kill me?” The rain soaked him. His teeth began

to chatter, again. Thomas attempted to readjust his position on the ledge. He realized,

almost too late, that the stone ledge of the bridge had become quite slippery. He lost his

grip on the ledge and fell directly onto his side. His head smacked the stone, and for a

second he thought he might roll off the side of the bridge. He frantically reached for

anything he could get his hands on to help prevent him from falling, realized

there was nothing, and willed his body to roll the opposite way. He wasn’t ready yet.

Quick reflexes were the only thing that kept him from falling to his death. He

rolled onto his back, closing his eyes in the process. His head had already begun to throb.

Bright flashes shone through his eye lids, partially from the lightning, but more so from

the blow to his skull. He reached for the side of his head. His hand met a

warm, sticky substance that seemed to be spreading through his hair. He brought his

hand to his face and immediately knew. The smell of blood filled his nostrils. The

warmness on his hand began to cool with each drop of rain that hit it.

Thomas pondered the thought of seeing his own blood. He had a theory about

blood. Seeing one’s own blood brings something out of a person. An animalistic instinct

takes over. The sight of the dark red liquid, knowing that it came from inside of you,

causes a person to change. Thomas had experienced the change himself. His priorities

had shifted. He felt the need to survive. Just like the last time he’d spoken to Jenny.

He was driving her home late one night. There were few other cars on the road.

In fact, Thomas couldn’t remember passing one since they’d first turned out of his

neighborhood. The car’s headlights illuminated the winding road. He’d driven on the

road after dark quite often, and figured that he could maneuver it even without his

headlights. He took the curves in the road at a high speed, each time receiving a

questioning look from Jenny. He couldn’t see her face in the dark car, but could feel her

cold stare each time he chose to lay off his brakes and coast around a curve. They’d spent

the entire day together, shopping, driving around, doing anything Jenny wanted to do. He

didn’t care that she made all of the decisions. He enjoyed spending the time with her.

The night concluded with a movie at his house. He’d fallen asleep towards the end, and

Jenny had to wake him to remind him to take her home.

“I still don’t know why we couldn’t watch Dumb and Dumber. It’s a classic!”

Thomas said, fighting off a smile.

“It is NOT a classic. It’s a terrible movie,” Jenny replied.

“That’s blasphemy.”

“And we’ve seen it like seventy times. It is time to expand your movie horizons,”

she continued.

Thomas laughed. “How about we broaden my movie horizons with something that

doesn’t suck? All of those chick flicks that you love end the same way.”

“No they don’t,” she replied defensively.

“Yes they do. The guy and girl meet. Romance, romance, romance. Huge

conflict. Resolve conflict. Happy ending. And then you cry and I become sick to my

stomach.”

“What’s wrong with that? Do you know what your problem is, Thomas? You need

a little romance in your life.”

He turned to stare at her. He was slightly taken aback by her last statement. He

couldn’t decide whether to fire back or play along.

“I am full of romance.” He decided to play along.

“Oh yeah? Why have I never seen it?”

“Because you’ve never given me the chance to show you.”

“I have given you like fifty chances. I give you chances all the time. You just don’t

capitalize on them. Maybe that’s why you don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Wait, woah woah. I don’t like where this conversation is going,” Thomas said,

attempting to put on the mental brakes.

With each statement that came from Jenny’s mouth, Thomas drew closer and

closer to becoming angry. His grip on the steering wheel tightened, and his foot pressed

slightly harder on the accelerator.

“I’m serious, Thomas. I think you are scared to take chances. Opportunities

present themselves and you back down. That’s why I could never date you.”

Silence. And yet, it was deafening. Thomas’s ears rang. The blood flowed to his

face, causing it to turn bright red. The car raced down the street, matching the increasing

beat of his pulse.

“Thomas, slow down,” Jenny ordered.

“No! You know what? I’m sick of this. I bend over backwards for you. I do

everything you ask me to do. I even try to do the things that I think you would want me

to do. And why? To make you happy.”

“Slow….down.”

“No. I’m tired of beating around the bush about this. I like you, Jenny. A LOT.

Like more than just friends. I have had the biggest crush on you since the day that we

met. My world has revolved around you. I would do anything for you. Yeah, maybe

this is stupid. Maybe I am way off base, but I genuinely care about you. So much…..”

“Thomas…..,” she tried to interrupt.

“No! Let me finish. Maybe you don’t like me in the same way that I like you, but I

know that I would treat you better than the douchébags you have been involved with. I

know….”

“Thomas!”

“No! Let me finish! I….”

“THOMAS! LOOK OUT!”

He felt a shove and could see her arm pointing towards the road. His head

whipped around. All at once, he saw his speedometer at eighty, emergency flashers from

the stalled car in the road ahead, and Jenny bracing for impact. He slammed on the

brakes and attempted to swerve, to somehow avoid the car, but it was too late. The

passenger side of Thomas’s car clipped the tail end of the stalled car.

Flashing lights. Spinning. The hard impact of the cars colliding. It all mixed. The

sound of screeching tires and metal crushing echoed in his ears. And then it was

drowned out by Jenny’s scream.

Thomas’s awoke with a start. It was dark. He didn’t know where he was. He

tried to sit up, but something restrained him. Something pressing against his chest. He

reached down and felt the strong polyester of a seatbelt. He was in his car. It wasn’t a

dream. He reached to the passenger seat, feeling for Jenny, but couldn’t find her.

Something warm trickled down his forehead and into his eyes. He saw red and reached

up to wipe the blood from his eyes. Something on the windshield caught his attention.

There was a huge hole on the passenger side of his windshield. Panic set in and he

reached for the door handle. Thomas managed to force the door open, and stumbled out

of the car onto the cool pavement. Struggling to stand, he braced himself on the side of

the car. He looked around, eyes focusing on something lying in the middle of the road.

Fifteen or so feet in front of the car, illuminated by the headlights, was a body.

“No, Thomas. Not a body. It’s a person,” he said to himself, as he half ran, half

limped towards it. As he drew closer, he recognized the petite frame of Jenny. She’d been

thrown from the car and was now lying face down in the middle of the road. He rushed

to her, dropping to his knees and taking her in his arms. Her face was covered in blood.

“Oh, please no. Jenny…..please be ok,” Thomas cried, tears mixing with the blood

on his face.

He tried to locate a pulse, but his hands were shaking too violently. He couldn’t

tell if she was breathing. Thomas screamed for help. He sat back on the pavement, and

pulled her into his lap. His entire body shuddered.

“No, nooooo. No!”

And then something moved. He felt a slight shift in Jenny’s body. At first, he

thought it was his imagination, but then she let out a faint sigh.

“Jenny? Jenny, can you hear me?” he asked frantically, while searching her face

for any sign of life. Jenny’s eyes opened slightly.

“Thomas….,” she managed to mutter.

“I’m here. I’m here. Are you ok? I thought you were……” He stopped short. He

could tell she was trying to say something.

“I lied….,”she mumbled.

“You what? You lied?” he asked. She choked, and began to cough. Thomas saw

the blood sputter from her mouth.

“It’s ok. That’s ok. It doesn’t matter,” he said, while trying to disguise the panic

that had crept into his voice.

“I lied about dating you.” His breath caught in his chest. He leaned closer. She was

fading, and he knew he needed to get help immediately.

“Jenny, it’s ok. You are going to be ok. I need to call for help though.”

“I lied. All this time.”

“It’s ok. Jenny, let me try to find my phone, so I can call for help.” He attempted to

move, but her eyes held him there.

“I love you, Thomas. I always have. I just wanted to hear you say that you loved me

too.”

“No, Jenny. No…..let me get help. Please,” he replied, tears streaming down his

face. She reached up and touched his cheek.

“Please, let me hear you say it.”

“I love you, Jenny. I have since that day you walked into class….I fell in love with

you then. I have loved you everyday since.” She smiled. Her hand fell to her chest.

Thomas frantically felt in his pockets for his cell phone.

“Jenny, hang on, ok? Let me get help.” She shook her head.

“Thank you, Thomas. Thank you for saying it.” She closed her eyes.

“Hang on, Jenny. Just hang on.”

Her body went limp. She was gone.

Back on the bridge, Thomas broke down. He’d held it together at Jenny’s funeral.

He wanted to appear strong, but deep inside he was torn to pieces. Now it all came out.

Tears of frustration, tears of pain, tears of sorrow, but mostly tears of guilt. Thomas

found the guilt to be unbearable. He was broken. Physically, mentally, emotionally.

Thomas knew in his heart that he had nothing left. He sat up on the bridge. Dizziness

from the blood loss from the gash on his head overtook him, and yet somehow he

managed to work his way into a standing position. With tear-filled eyes, he looked

towards the sky. The bright flashes of lightning had subsided, and the rain had died

down.

He pictured her bright, beautiful smile. Those eyes. He remembered the sound of

her laughter, the feel of her touch. He smiled one last time, and calmly stepped from the

ledge of the bridge.

My Review

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Featured Review

Untalented Creation

One of the best storys I've ever read (and I really do read a lot).
I love the comparisons and metaphors. Everything Jenny means to Thomas. This is really intense but still authentic. At the beginning I really feared that the end might be predictable (I thought he will die for her) but it wasn't and after all this energy that you've created between them it hurts to let her die. I'm still in tears.