Suicide.

Chapter 3

By football I mean "soccer" not American football.
Chapter 3
Not just a stranger.

As I leap off the bridge and into the abyss of death, I shut my eyes tightly. I feel the wind gliding. For a split second, the whole world stops, like a movie on pause. My feet freeze mid air. I feel a slim hand rapidly wrap around my wrist. My eyes dart open like fresh bullets. I look down to see myself hovering 10 or so feet above the water. My hazel eyes widen as I look up. It's none other that the stranger from earlier, I realize it's not a stranger at all. It's the football player, Julian from the class next door at Murton Millie Highschool. Why was he at Tower Bridge at 7am? His blue eyes bore into mine. He's panting and I wonder how he's holding my entire body weight. My legs find the bottom of the railing on the bridge to help ease his now red hand.

"Let go..."
I whisper, my voice hoarse with undying urge. I search his blue-green eyes. They were like an ocean that could never find it's shore. He had fluffy dark brown hair, almost black and skin that was tanned perfectly. I realize I don't want to die, I just fear the horrors of living. Julian, the talk of the school, I'm sure he beds a new girl every week. I smiled at him earlier, he probably thought I was flirting but I had no clue it was him. He's wearing a baggy black hoodie, I can see his silver cross earrings dangling from his ears with a sharp glisten.

"Are you insane?"
His hand holds mine tightly, his voice is low but surprised.
"I'm not letting go, you idiot!"
There's no malice in his tone. He's probably wondering why I just attempted. He's been holding on for a while, I have no idea how. He looks at me like I've just told him I'm from the moon.