Grown up kid

freefall

It had been a month since I was dishcarged. January. The coldest month in Tulsa. I hated it. But some how I found myself on a random bridge somewhere in the woods. I was on the other side of the guard rail, hanging on tight. Small patches of ice coated the railing from the storm last week. I just looked down at the shallow, icy water. What if I-
I hear big boots crunching in the snow. Their steps are slow. "Who is that?" I turn my head enough to see their silhouette.
"Aidy. Aidy Curtis?" I didn't recognize the voice but assumed he saw me on the news after I was stabbed. "Planning on jumping or?"
I didn't want to jump. It was never really my plan- I don't think. But if I fell I wouldn't have stopped myself from falling.
"No, enjoying the view," I call back.
"What view?" He jumps onto the guard rail- I gasp thinking he would slip on ice- and stands up on the railing. He towers over me. He teeters before finding his balance. He stands perfectly still looking overlooking the-- I will admit-- very sad scenery.
"This view," I carefully remove one hand from railing and gesture forward but quickly hang on again.
"The river?"
"Yeah." The river was filled with who knows what; probably Socs earlier victims. Nobody swam in it now a days. The bridge had been closed for years now too so it was pretty dead.
He just nods and out stretches his arms for balance. "Dare me to jump?"
"No it's too shallow you'd die." The thought of him free falling down into the grey water below flashed into my mind and I couldn't stop myself from thinking about each detail. The water at its deepest was around twenty feet deep and from this height I knew that was not safe. I decided to pull my mind from the loop of him free falling. "What's your name?"
"Michael Miller."
That was Pony's middle name; Michael. "I like that name."
"I like your name, Aidy."
"Thank you, Michael."
"You're fourteen now aren't ya?"
"Uh, yeah I am what about you?"
"Fifteen."
I just nodded and continued looking below at the murky water. What if I did want to jump? What if I just let go.
"Why are you up here Aidy?"
Why was I up here? I barely remembered my journey here. I know I took my bike- riding in about five inches of snow on a 15 year old 10-speed.- and I left around 5 am. I had been here for hours just standing on the ledge. It's like my body was on auto pilot and somehow took me here, to Bird Creek Bridge. Darry and Soda and Pony must be worried sick about me. I mean I just took off. I should go back.
"Aidy?"
I turn around so I'm facing away the guard rail and throw my leg over. I pull the other over and jump down onto the road that used to be apart of the bridge. I just stood on the bridge for a moment.
"Aidy, you're bleeding," I was one of Pony's zip ups and a shirt. I had forgotten my winter down jacket. I wasn't cold yet but my fingers felt weird.
While climbing over the guard rail I had pulled my stitches in my abdomen and was bleeding onto my white shirt. Michael jumped down and looked at the growing spot of red.
"Did you cut yourself on the rust? Here," He took the bottom of my shirt in his hands and gently lifted it just enough to see the wound.
"My stitches came out. It's fine," I put my hand on his to lower my shirt but he stood there almost frozen in shock.
"What happened?"
"Uh-" I try to put 'I was stabbed and left to die over two months ago but I'm fine' into a better way but I couldn't phrase it any better. "I was stabbed. This is the second time the stupid stitches have come out." When I was stabbed I was stabbed in four places: about five inches above my belly button, to the left about an inch from my belly button, my right thigh just below the hip, and my right shoulder. The stitches on my thigh and shoulder healed like a charm and the stitches had fulled dissolved about a week after my discharge but the ones on my stomach kept busting and having to be replaced.
"Here," He takes off his shirt, which was dumb considering it was about a solid 30 degrees. "I have an extra in the car. I'll drive you home if you'd like." Darry would have me dead and six feet under so quick if he saw me in a car with a shirtless stranger while I'm bleeding.
"I can ride home," I push his blood soaked shirt back towards him. This feeling bubbled in my stomach; I hated it.
"You can't ride home like this or in this weather," He presses the shirt onto my stomach again and takes my wrist in his hand and makes me hold the shirt myself. "Pressure stops bleeding." I hold the shirt onto my stomach as he leads the way to his car.