Letters From A Stranger |COMPLETE|

Part 9

The moment: what I should be living in. I'm in Newport with a really attractive Newport guy. I should be embracing it. But I suppose I don't think about it like that. That's not what Carson is to me. I wonder what I am to him? Does he see me as a helpless loser from Samson? Or did he find a true interest in me? I'm sure the first impression. No one can see past where you're from if it's the shitty part of the state. I haven't had the chance to ask him where we're going, but I guess I'll figure it out soon.

Twenty minutes: how long we've driven. No radio, no speaking, just driving. We enter highways, exit highways. By the looks of it, I'd say we're headed toward the direction of Samson. I say nothing and wait it out, because I know he isn't taking me there. Twenty more minutes pass. The city is escaping us as rurality gradually consumes us. Woods fill both sides of the road. The environment soon feels familiar. My eyes widen when I realize we're nearing the river.

The river: where I've sought after suicide. It contains the special bridge. I've chosen it to be my spot of death if I have no other choice. It was where I had planned to go if Carson would've never picked me up that day. We're a hell of a lot closer to Samson than I predicted; were right on the outskirts. I wonder if we'll cross over the bridge. I pray we do not.

My hands: clutch the seat cushions hard when the old bridge comes into view. A part of my stomach drops as it reveals itself. I squeeze my eyes shut and hold my breath as we cross over it. I won't be able to bear looking out over the water. I'm saving that for another time.

The car: slows. "What, are you afraid of driving over bridges or something?" Carson wonders lightly. I peek one eye open and gasp. He's stopped right in front it. I do everything in my power not to scream. He can tell something's up, but it's clear he doesn't know what to say or do. I am shaking now and purposefully do not let my eyes meet the structure ahead. I feel like I'm teasing my death. I hate the sensation it brings.

Upsetting him: not what I intend on. I wish to scream at him to turn around, but my throat constricts. I focus on calming down.

Carson: flicks his hazards on and pops open his car door. What is he doing? He strolls around the front of the car to my side and opens the passenger door. "Oh come on, you don't have to be scared. Hardly any cars ever cross it. It's usually only if they miss their exit to the highway, which is actually quite rare, believe it or not." He spreads open his palm, waiting for me to take it. I can't. I wish he could understand. I wish he knew without me having to share, because I won't share this with him. I will never tell him I fantasize about my death and have chosen this place to be where it all ends. Carson stays light about the situation and laughs as he pulls me out of the seat. I whimper. "You're fine. Trust me. You'll love it."

No: I most certainly will not. Something inside me lets him drag me to the bridge, but it is a drag. My top set of teeth crunch down so hard on my lower lip till it goes numb. The air is moderately cool. The good thing about autumn is that the daytime weather is near perfect. Not too hot or cold. Just a light jacket is all you need. That's the only positive to this.

His hand: holds mine differently this time. He threads his fingers through my own and grips tightly. We walk like we're a couple. But we're not. We don't even know each other. We're nearly strangers who've coincidentally crossed paths at a weird time. I sigh, telling myself not to think about Carson in any other way but a savior. A friend. But sometimes I don't think that's good enough. It doesn't extend to what I feel he deserves from me. Maybe I'm just being greedy. How could I not be?