Symbolism & Innocence

The Bridge

Third Person's P.O.V

He crossed his ankles as he looked at the water far below the bridge, thoughts coursing through his mind. He watches as the rough current hits against rocks and other debris lining the surface. Louis looks over at the man next to him, eyes shut as he stands on the other side of the railing, but close enough incase Louis were to be in danger. His curls whip around his face as the wind blows through them, Louis wishing for it to knock him down and off the bridge. He frowned at the becoming thoughts and turned his head slightly in Harry's direction.

"What where to happen if I fell of this bridge right now?" he asked, "would the impact kill me or would the drowning?" Harry looked over at the small boy, his gaze set back on the water below him. He doesn't have to think about the answer, he looks away from the boy and looks out at the water, memories flooding through him.

"The impact," he says. Louis sighed and stretched his leg of its perched position on the cement, eyes glazed over.

"What if I wanted to drown?" he asks voice low and full of curiosity. Harry shrugs, with a small voice in the back of his head reminding him of the very same thoughts he had when he was much younger

"It hurts," he said nonchalantly, trying to will away his memories of burning lungs and aching muscles.

"How do you know?" Louis asked, turning to face the professor, his muscles where tense as he looked down at the water longingly, fingers tracing the railing. "Trust me when I say it hurts worse than the pain that drives you to it."

Louis nods and stares at the water once more. "Why?" he asks. Louis doesn't look up as he answers, "Because some days I just want to stand atop the bridge, the wind swaying me left and right and when I fall, it'll feel like I'm flying... then I'm gone." He turns around and meets his gaze, "what's better than that?"

"Nothing," he says as he shakes his head and looks up into the sky, his childhood years flooding his senses when he shuts his eyes.

Flash Back

It's raining, it's raining hard. The wind pushes him as he stand on the other side of the railing. His throat is burning from to many drinks from a bottle of scotch he stole from his mother, his arms still smeared in blood from the earlier assault he did upon himself. His mind is lost in a haze of drinkdrinkdrink and jumpjumpjump.

Harry grips the railing tightly as he look down at the water, knowing as soon as he hit the surface all of it will go away, all of the pain and tears will wash away with the storm. Cracks of lightning and the roar of thunder are dulled as he scoots farther towards the ledge with a courage he never knew he had. His hand was clasped around the neck of the scotch; he brought it to his lips one last time as it slipped from his fingers and into the current.

Harry hadn't even realized he was crying, the rain being mixed in with his tears, but he knew by the stinging in his eyes that the pain was taking over. He looked around and took notice of the empty road, nobody would know.

Nobody would care.

He took off the necklace his mother had given to him when he was much younger, when she still cared. But those days were long over. He clasped the necklace to the railing with a single kiss.

Taking those few last steps to the edge, he silently cursed everyone who ever hurt him. He damned father for the things he did to his mother. He damned mother for drinking herself into oblivion. He damned the bullies who tore him apart. He damned the others who stood and watched the outgoing boy turn into nothing. He damned God for putting him here. And most of all? He damned himself for reaching this point. This- this ledge he stood atop on. And with that last thought, he fell.