Page 10 of Kill Me

“Well… For a start, you’re not wrong. I was planning on jumping. I’ve been planning this for most of my life, actually, so it’s really rude of you to cause the interruption. Secondly, if I jump and you feel guilty, how does that affect me? I’ll be dead. So it sounds like a you problem.” His grip on my jumper tightens, and I can feel myself being pulled back even further from the edge.

“You hope…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, you obviously haven’t thought this through very clearly. First of all, you’re on the side of the bridge that leads to water and not the motorway, which tells me you don’t actually want to guarantee your death—”

“Not true. I just didn’t want to inflict the trauma of my decisions on anyone who was driving.”

“But you would inflict the trauma on handsome old me? Charming.”

“I still have my back to you. How do I know you’re handsome? You could be butt-fucking-ugly, and you still wouldn’t be able to stop me. What’s next?”

“What do you mean?” There’s a part of me that wants to turn around and bless myself with the face of the man that made me belly laugh for the first time since Tommo. But there’s another part of me that knows how much the universe fucking hates me, and he will probably be the spitting image of my ex-husband or akin to my dad, so I stand here, still on the edge of the bridge, his hand entwined in the excess material of my jumper and engage the sassy side of my personality. This boy has no idea what he’s got coming.

“Well, you said firstly, that implies there’s a second point coming. But, if you don’t mind, could you kindly get on with it? I’m fucking tired, and I just want to be done.”

“Oh, yeah, fair point. You’ll have to forgive me for being distracted by your suicidal traits. Secondly, if you jump from here into that water, which is about 20ft away, you’re definitely going to break your ribs—ouch—the chances are your organs will tear, you’ll still be conscious, and then because you can’t breathe through the pain, you’ll more than likely drown, which is a fucking inhumane way to die. And there’s no guarantee that would even work, so you’ll be in agony, floating in the water, waiting for some poor soul to find you before you become fish food, and therefore inflicting the trauma you say you so desperately don’t want to inflict onto someone else.”

“Is it time for you to leave yet?”

“Oooohhh, she’s spicy. I like it. Turn around and sit down and I’ll think about it.”

I sigh. Clearly having lost the battle—at least for now—and using the grip he still has on my jumper, I step one foot back, balancing myself with my arms as I do.

“There you go. One more step and you’ll be back on level ground.”

“Don’t remind me.”

My feet meet the floor, and I take what feels like my first breath since I first heard his voice. In all of the romance books I’ve read, I never understood what writers meant when they described a man’s voice as buttery, until now. Smooth like butter is an understatement. I want him to melt me down to liquid and whisk me back to life. Still baffled by the feelings pulsating through my pussy and the goosebumps spreading across my skin, I turn to look at the man who just rudely interrupted my suicide mission.

My breath is stolen. I’m finished. Finito. Death has come upon me, and it was not self-inflicted. I’m unable to form a coherent sentence just by the look of him.

“What are you doing up here, anyway?” I ask.

“I was visiting my parents in the cemetery.”

“Oh, I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Ermmm, thanks?”

“Well, isn’t that what everyone says?”

“I suppose. It’s been a long time, so I suppose I don’t expect to hear it anymore. Now, back to you, want to tell me why you’re standing on the side of a derelict bridge looking like the whole world is against you?”

“Because it is…”

Chapter Ten

Harley - Present Day

Supermassive Black Hole – Muse

Thirty minutes before…

As if life didn’t fuck me in the ass hard enough when it killed off my parents at the age of 12, leaving me the lone survivor with no hope of a life moving forward, now it expects me to be responsible for the death of the stunner standing in front of me? I think the fuck not.

I don’t know what possessed me to go and visit my parents’ grave tonight; it’s been a few years. But since I’m trying to make some healthier choices and lose some of this chub, I decided to make the most of the fading sunshine and go for a walk to pay them a visit. Usually, it’s just me berating them for making me an orphan, but they never fucking apologise, the assholes. Like give me a sign or something, send me a carrier pigeon, or even a fucking magpie to salute at this point. Something to let me know that they see me. That they didn’t totally abandon me. It’s not too much to ask for, right?