17 Last Times

⤹12❁ Down the same road

Hello again! I've been trying to update more frequently! I hope you can see that! Thank you for reading! I hope you like this chapter x

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When the taxi arrives, I am already all clammy due to stress. My heart trashes in my chest like crazy, echoing in my head in deep, dull pounds.

"Hello," the driver says with an accent, watching me barrel inside the vehicle.

Frenetic, I brush the hair off my face and show him my phone, explaining where to go. My words must come out really perturbed and rushed as the man frowns at me slightly, yet only nods his head understood.

"Yeah. Alright. No problem." His o's sound flat and he rolls his r's. "Are you okay, miss?" he questions, pulling out onto the road. His eyes find me in the rear view mirror.

I try calling Will again. Nothing.

"How long till we get there?" I ask, heart beating out of my chest.

"It all depends on the traffic. Fifteen minutes maybe?"

I calculate the amount of times Will can possibly jump off the overpass during that quarter.

It's been over an hour since he left. I remind myself and add an extra hundreds of jumps to the likelihood of his suicide.

There is no time for traffic.

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Twenty minutes later, the overpass appears in sight at last. My mind is like a storm, dark and loud, as I look at the ledge. Will stands right beside the decrepit barrier, arms folded on its rail. He's looking down, but he can't see me. He's staring at the other side of the road. His back is turned towards the vehicle, which I am currently rushing out from.

"Is everything okay!?" the driver shouts before I slam the door. "Do you need my help?" he asks, pointing at Will.

"I'll be fine," I tell him. "He will be fine," I reassure and don't wait for an answer.
Instead, I run up the damn hill and crawl, literally crawl, using my hands as I forestall myself from sliding down on the wet grass.

When I make it all the way up, I straighten my back and wipe the dirt on my clothes. Will's unceasingly staring ahead in an oblivious slash vacant way, earphones on.

I venture to approach him. I'm still so angry with him but at the same time so frightened of what he might have come here for.

Eventually, his head turns in my direction and he seems beyond startled. He removes his earphones, silent.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, my heartbeat slowly looses its crazy pace.

"I could ask you the same question," he grumbles indifferently. "Shouldn't you be packing?" His sight reinstates on the road.

"I have," I respond firmly.

"Hmm," he mutters and lifts his chin in confirmation of having heard my words.

"So?" I question anew. "Why are you here?"

"Does it really matter, Davina?" He gives me a glare. "We're done. You're moving out. What else is there left to say?"

I tense up slightly. "I came here to make sure you're not going to do anything stupid." I take a breath, calming myself down. "And I wanted to thank you for letting me stay at yours for so long and for paying my bills."

"I've paid them ahead," he mutters, evenly, but there is a hint of coldness to his tone. "So you don't have to worry about anything for another year or so."