1999

1. The Bridge

The night air was crisp, tinged with the scent of rain that had yet to fall. Y/n walked down the dimly lit street, the soles of her worn combat boots echoing against the cracked pavement. The city was alive around her—neon signs flickering, cars honking in the distance, and the faint hum of conversations spilling out from late-night diners and bars. But none of it touched her. She was in her own world, the sound of Nirvana's *Come as You Are* filtering through the foam-padded headphones of her Walkman. The music played at full volume, drowning out everything else.

She reached into the pocket of her leather jacket and pulled out a crumpled pack of Marlboros. Her fingers worked quickly, pulling out a cigarette and bringing it to her lips. With a flick of her thumb, the lighter sparked, and the cigarette tip glowed a dull orange. She took a long drag, the smoke filling her lungs, before she let it out in a slow, controlled exhale. The warmth of the smoke soothed her in a way that nothing else could.

Y/n continued to walk, the cigarette dangling between her fingers, occasionally bringing it back to her lips for another drag. The streets became quieter as she moved further away from the city center, the neon lights dimming until only the occasional streetlamp lit her path. She knew these streets like the back of her hand, each turn a well-worn routine. Her destination was clear, even if her path seemed aimless.

The city slowly gave way to the outskirts, where buildings thinned out, replaced by patches of wild grass and clusters of trees. The air grew colder, sharper. Y/n pulled her jacket tighter around herself, the worn leather creaking softly in protest. The music in her ears changed tracks, now playing *All Apologies*, a melancholic tune that matched the darkening night.

Soon, she reached the edge of the woods. The trees here were tall and thick, their branches intertwining like fingers holding secrets. Y/n paused at the entrance, finishing the last of her cigarette before dropping it to the ground and crushing it beneath her boot. She hesitated for a moment, looking back at the distant glow of the city she'd left behind, then turned and stepped into the darkness of the forest.

The woods were silent, save for the occasional rustle of leaves underfoot or the distant call of an owl. The further Y/n ventured in, the more the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving her alone with her thoughts. The path was familiar, though nearly invisible in the darkness. She didn't need to see it; her feet knew the way. The music in her ears provided a steady rhythm as she navigated through the trees, her breath coming out in small puffs of mist in the cool night air.

After what felt like hours, though it had only been a few minutes, she reached her spot. The broken metal bridge loomed before her, half-hidden by the dense underbrush. It had once been part of a railroad track, long abandoned and forgotten. The bridge was rusted, its metal beams twisted and warped by time and the elements. A few planks remained, though most had fallen away, leaving gaping holes that dropped down into the abyss below. But for Y/n, this place was a sanctuary, a place where she could be completely alone.

She approached the bridge, her eyes scanning the structure. The sight of it filled her with a strange sense of comfort. It was just as broken as she felt, a relic of something that once had purpose but was now nothing more than a memory. Without hesitation, Y/n grabbed hold of the cold metal and began to climb.

The ascent was familiar, almost second nature. She moved carefully, placing her feet on the sturdier sections of metal and gripping the beams with practiced ease. The rusted surface scraped against her palms, but she paid no mind to the discomfort. This climb was a ritual, something she'd done countless times before. The higher she climbed, the more the trees around her seemed to fall away, the tops of their branches barely brushing against the bottom of the bridge.

Finally, she reached the top. The highest point of the broken bridge offered a view that no one else knew about. Y/n swung one leg over the edge, then the other, until she was perched on the narrow beam. She let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding and allowed herself to relax. Her feet dangled over the edge, the worn soles of her boots swaying gently in the breeze.