Goner | M.C.

Part 4

[Reed Winters]

His hair had obviously been dyed a bright red not too long ago because now it was some faded pink color that didn't really go with his pale complexion, his dirty blonde roots started to show through. Other than the choice of hair color he seemed to be a pretty average guy. Normal. So why was he up here?

"Look down." I disregarded his introduction and turned my eyes to the streets below because I knew I would be done there soon enough.

He looked over at me and surprised me how much fear was still in his eyes. Michael wasn't ready for this. If he was he wouldn't care and his fear of heights or anything else for that matter. He would be just like me. Tired.

"What? Why would I do that?" Michael questioned as he tried to keep his composure calm.

I smiled to myself as I kept my gaze down. "So you know what you're really choosing to do."

"I don't need to," He hesitated when he spoke. "I've already made up my mind."

"And so have I."

I inched my body closer to the edge, but the feeling of his fingers as they wrapped around my wrist halted my actions. The feeling of another person's skin touching mine felt so foreign. My heart ached for that feeling again, but my bones had turned brittle and my skin caked in dirt. I couldn't survive like this.

"What's your name?" Michael asked again, his voice soothing to the ear.

Was there any harm in telling him my name? My jaw clenched as I thought over my options. It didn't matter if I spoke to him because even with our brief interaction I wouldn't be around long enough to be memorable.

I let out a long breath and scooted back to my original position before I spoke. "Reed."

"Sorry, what?"

I think he was just as surprised to hear me answering his question as I was.

"Reed Winters," I glared over at him as I introduced myself again. "You wanted to know my name and that's what it is."

"Like Lou Reed?" His question instantly made my insides churn and I cringed, already annoyed by the conversation. This question brought back memories growing up, good and bad, and how in the end I loathed my father for giving that name.

"Actually, yes, my father was a bit obsessed with his music." I crossed my arms over my chest and turned away from his thoughtful stare.

"You said Clifford, huh?" I turned back to see that he looked somewhat nervous like I knew something I shouldn't and I couldn't understand why.

"Please tell me you've read the big red dog books. Looks like you had the hair pretty close," I tried to joke, but it only tasted bitter on my tongue.

It surprised me when he laughed, running a quick hand through his hair before letting out the breath he had held. "Like I haven't heard that joke a thousand times before."

I shrunk away from him taking his sarcastic tone a little too seriously. It was easy for him to laugh a comment like that off, so why couldn't I?

"Well, my apologies for being so unoriginal," I scoffed as I brushed my hair from my face, the wind caused it to tickle my frozen cheeks.

"That's not-"

I cut him off with a wave of my hand. There was an anxious jolt that shot through my brain reminding me why I was here and I couldn't stand to be here anymore.