REAP

Deceived

Time is nothing to me, so I allow myself to settle on the edge of the bridge to watch those who pass by. When it seems as if every existing color has managed to lose its vibrancy, a familiar shape makes it way through the crowd.

A few feet away stands the boy from last night.

I breathe in, attempting to calm my nerves and restrain myself from doing anything stupid-

I go to him anyways.

"What-!" he swats at the place I've tapped him to draw his attention.

Then, recognition sets in his clear eyes.

"You." He spits the word, as if it were the most despicable and factful insult known to man.

My face scrunches and I cross my arms uncomfortably, "Yeah, it's me. Sorry I saved you- how rude of me."

"It wasn't..." He swallows back his anger, I can feel him do it. I can feel every emotion. "your choice."

"No, no it wasn't. But why were you up there? Why? I mean, it's not like you look like most of my- I mean the... Cases."

I look him up and down, once more. He doesn't. His neatly gelled hair, his nice button up shirt, the starched jeans- it doesn't fit. Why would someone like him want to throw away such a potential-stocked life? He wouldn't have to be like one of those people wasting time for achievements to collect. He seems like the guy that just accumulates them effortlessly.

He breathes a heavy sigh, and stuffs his hands in his neatly pressed cardigan. "That's my business, not yours." And he turns.

Not to continue down the sidewalk-

NO.

I watch him and allow his feelings to flow through me as the distance between him and the oncoming traffic quickly closes.

  Loneliness, loss, loathing, lethargy.

I giggle- it's so funny how many awful emotions begin with-

BAM.

"butterfly, 

butterfly fly in the sky butterfly, 

butterfly flies so high butterfly, 

butterfly lands on my thigh butterfly, 

butterfly motionlessly lies butterfly, 

butterfly gracefully dies "

(Adryan Brink)

Unexplainable pain splinters through my tissue and awakens every muscle into action. I race through the traffic, ignoring the horns that blare and the sirens peeling through the streets and scoop up the troubled boy. When I reach him, I feel a flicker of something besides pain-

Regret.

A stereo voice streams through my thoughts-

  Over eighty percent of those who have failed at their attempt in suicide regret their choice momentarily after.

I can feel his life slipping along with my ability to heal. Reapers are known for what their name discloses- but what most people don't realize is that yes,

we take away.

But

we can also give.