Until Forever Falls Apart

03 | The Bridge Between

I DON'T REMEMBER WHEN THEIR VOICES STOPPED CALLING AFTER ME. Perhaps it was once I entered the dense woodland, pushing further and further in. Branches snagged at the skirt of my pinafore, tearing it. The rip and my thundering footsteps broke the silence of the forest, birds scattering from their perches in the tallest trees. They squawked in protest, filling the navy sky with dark shadows passing over the full moon lighting up the sky.

Out in the wilderness, everything was the same. I didn't follow a path—not for lack of trying—but ran alongside the creak where the gentle tinkle of water led me deeper into the forest. The trees on either side loomed above me, ignoring my presence as I disturbed their home. I couldn't tell whether I was running in circles through the blur of tears or if I was making ground towards the village streets.

There were no signs or indications of where I was except a long-buried memory from years ago. It must have been somewhere along this stream of water where I hit my head.

After the news spilled from my mother's mouth, I screamed at her and Jonathan. He also said some choice words to me. The next thing I knew, something took control of my legs. A voice in my head shouted at me to run and to run faster.

At the creak, I slowed down when some neighbourhood boys began taunting me. They followed my every move, trying to block me from escaping. At some point, I must have stumbled on some rocks. The last memory before I blacked out was of the world tilting and falling around me.

I woke up in my bed back at Eleanor's home. Jonathan was there in a chair placed beside me, watching me closely with bated breath. Upon hearing me groan, he sprang into action and helped me sit up with a gentleness I never knew he possessed.

"I feel responsible for what happened," he'd said after helping me eat and drink. "If I handled it better—" He never finished the sentence, nor did he have to. Neither of us took the news well and both of us said things we would come to regret.

He was the only one who understood. But he was gone, buried six feet under along with any sign he'd been alive apart from half-arsed memorials and a gravestone made from black marble.

Finally, the trees opened, amber streetlight spilling through.

I slowed to a jog, my breath burning in my chest as I paused at the edge where green grass met charcoal tarmac. I stared ahead of me, the rush of water from below echoing up from the cliffsides hiding the river.

Amblewood Bridge stood before me, welcoming and foreboding. Something cracked inside my soul, and I realised why I was here. This was fate.

Despite the stitch in my stomach, my feet took charge. With each heavy step, they lead me closer and closer towards the railing protecting me from the harsh reality below. One foot on the bridge, another followed until I stiffly stared at the rocky water beneath me, licking the sides of the cliffs hungrily.

With a shuddering breath, I stared ahead at the curve where the cliffs moulded together, and the river could no longer be seen. Stars twinkled above, winking at me even though they were witnessing something horrible.

I knew how to make the pain stop. I knew how to end it.

Steeling myself, I climbed over the metal railing with shaky hands. My fingers were starch white against the midnight hues, gripping tightly with my feet planted on the short ledge. There were moments where I though my grip was about to slip, but they held steady.

I pressed my back further into the stone-cold metal and allowed the wind to run through the tangles of my hair as I closed my eyes. It would all end here and I was at peace with that. My mother would have my money—what she always wanted—and I would be with him. I wanted that more than anything. We could be happy, just like he promised me.