"In the Dark"

Chapter 19: In The Blur Of Time

I sat, staring blankly at the red light, my foot tapping impatiently on the brake pedal. The traffic jam stretched before me like a parking lot, cars inching along with agonizing slowness. I let out a frustrated sigh.

The light turned green, but it made no difference. The sea of brake lights ahead remained unchanged. I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, feeling trapped.

My gaze wandered to the pedestrian walkway on the bridge. That's when I saw them - a pair of beautiful silver heels, gleaming in the fading light. My eyes traveled up, tracing the curves of a slender leg, adorned with a delicate ankle strap.

The vision was captivating. My curiosity piqued, I continued my upward gaze. A flowing, emerald green gown hugged her figure, accentuating her curves. The fabric shimmered, as if infused with subtle sparkle. A delicate necklace glinted around her neck, complementing the dress. My eyes reached her hair - rich, dark locks cascading down her back like a waterfall.

At first, I assumed she was heading to a dinner date, given her stunning attire. But as my gaze met hers, my assumption shattered. Her eyes, red-rimmed and puffy, told a different story. They were bloodshot, with tiny, swollen veins visible beneath the surface. Dark circles sagged beneath her lower lashes, like bruises. Tear droplets clung to her lashes, glistening like tiny diamonds.

Her eyelids were inflamed, and her gaze seemed to hold a thousand unshed tears. The skin around her eyes was splotched, as if she'd been crying for hours. Her eyes seemed dull and lifeless, like two extinguished stars.

I felt a pang in my chest, my frustration with the traffic forgotten. What had happened to this beautiful girl? Why did her eyes hold such anguish? I tried to shift my attention back to the traffic, but my gaze kept drifting back to her.

As she walked, her purse suddenly slipped from her shoulder, spilling its contents onto the pavement. She didn't even flinch. Her baby steps faltered, and she stumbled.

Then, her hand dropped, releasing her cellphone. It fell to the ground, ringing once before going silent. She stood there, frozen, her shoulders shaking, and a sob escaped her lips.

My heart went out to her. I couldn't look away.

Minutes ticked by, and she stood still, frozen in grief. But then, something shifted. Her expression changed, and she swiftly dabbed at her eyes with the back of her hand, wiping away tears. It was as if a resolve had formed within her, a sense of determination.

My eyes remained fixed on her, fascinated by the transformation. She bent down, grasping for her heels, but her hands faltered, struggling to find a grip. She tugged, her fingers slipping, until finally, the shoes pulled free from her feet. The struggle seemed to exhaust her, but she didn't pause.

Without glancing around or acknowledging her surroundings, she began walking. Her bare feet padded softly on the pavement, a stark contrast to the clickety-clack of her heels moments before. I watched, mesmerized, as she took a few steps back, her eyes fixed on the ground.

Suddenly, her face contorted, and tears burst forth like a dam breaking. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks, and her body shook with sobs. I felt my heart ache, witnessing her pain.

Still crying, she walked barefoot to where her phone lay. She picked it up, typed out a message with trembling fingers, and then let the phone fall back onto the pavement. The screen glowed with an outgoing text, and I wondered who she was reaching out to - or saying goodbye to.

With a newfound sense of purpose, she turned toward the bridge. Her steps were slow, deliberate, as if drawing energy from some hidden reserve.

She kept walking, step by step, until she reached the bridge's railing. Her hand grasped the metal bar, and she leaned forward, gazing out at the water below.

My heart pounded in my chest. What was she thinking? What was she planning?

Everything happened so fast, just like in the movies. One moment I was stuck in traffic, the next I was racing toward the bridge, desperate to intervene.

As I approached, I saw her muttering words under her breath, her lips barely moving. It looked like she was seeking forgiveness for what she was about to do. My heart sank.

I tried to cross the road, but cars whizzed past, refusing to yield. Didn't they see it was urgent? Had everyone suddenly gone blind? I thought, frustration and fear clawing at me.

On the bridge, she took her second step up, her foot finding the iron railing. Panic set in. I darted across the road, weaving between cars, horns blaring around me.

I reached the bridge just as she was about to jump. With a surge of adrenaline, I lunged forward, grabbing her hand. Time slowed as I pulled her back.

"Let go!" she screamed, struggling against my grip. "It's my life, not yours!"

"No!" I shouted back, my voice firm. "I won't let you do this!"

She fought harder, but I held tight. We both crashed to the hard ground, the impact jarring my bones.

As we struggled, I saw the desperation in her eyes. "Please," she begged, "just let me go."

My grip tightened. "No, I won't let you die," I whispered, tears streaming down my face.

Finally, she stopped fighting, exhausted. I pulled her into my arms, cradling her like a child.

"It's okay," I whispered. "You're safe now."

I held her tight, my tears mingling with hers. I didn't understand where my own tears came from; all I knew was that this stranger's pain had become mine. As we sat on the ground, I gently asked, "What happened? What drove you to this point? Was it something someone said or did? Something that made you feel like giving up?" But before she could respond, my world shifted.

A shrill voice pierced the air, "Lena! Lena!" My body jolted, as if electrocuted. I felt myself being yanked back to reality. The last thing I remembered was Mrs. Johnson saying, "I'll get straight to the point." Where had my mind gone?

As I opened my eyes, the office came into focus. Mrs. Johnson stood at the front, her expression concerned. The room fell silent, all eyes on me. I scanned the room, meeting curious stares. My colleagues' faces seemed to blur together, except for one - Lucas. His gaze held a mix of worry and amusement.

My mind reeled, trying to shake off the vivid image of the bridge. It felt so real. The girl's tears, her desperation... I rubbed my temples, attempting to clear the fog. Omg, I was lost in thought.

"Lena?" Mrs. Johnson repeated, her voice softer. "Are you okay?" I hesitated, unsure how to respond. My body language betrayed me - fidgeting hands, averted eyes.

"Yeah," I replied, my voice laced with skepticism. The room remained silent, as if waiting for more. I stared into my colleagues' eyes, searching for answers. Did they know what had happened? Had Mrs. Johnson already shared the news?

My gaze lingered on Lucas, hoping he'd provide some clue. But his expression remained neutral. I felt a pang of unease, realizing I'd zoned out for who-knew-how-long.

Mrs. Johnson's voice broke the silence, wrapping up the meeting. "That's all for now. Thank you, everyone." The room erupted into a gentle hum as colleagues began to disperse.

As I remained seated, Mrs. Johnson's parting words filled me with foreboding: "Lena, see me in my office." I knew what was coming - a reprimand, or worse.

My heart sank, anticipating the conversation. What had I missed during my mental absence? Had something critical been discussed?

I rose from my chair, my movements mechanical. My colleagues' concerned glances followed me as I made my way to Mrs. Johnson's office.

The door loomed ahead, a threshold to unknown consequences. I took a deep breath, bracing for impact, and stepped inside.