Broken Home

V

Connor

I ran out the house, Dad chasing after me. I heard him yell, but after a while he disappeared behind me. I pulled my hat into my head and put my scarf on my neck.

I ran down streets and streets of identical houses, until I finally reached Hunter Bridge. With my letter in my hand, I crumpled it up and threw it down the river.

Hunter Bridge was where people threw their last letters down the river to deceased loved ones. I decided to throw mine, just to say goodbye one last time to Mum.

Shivering, I sat on the cold concrete next to the gate, watching as the water below rushed down the river. I silently stayed there, feeling comfort in the peace of the bridge.

Hunter Bridge wasn't only for throwing letters, it's where people jumped. They jumped off the bridge and drowned. The river is very deep, and the bridge is super high.

The thought of people jumping over the metal gates and into the river made me feel bad inside. Like something bad was going to happen soon.

I kept looking down at the river, sitting silently beside the gate. The water flowed and the birds chirped. The serene forest on the either side of the river, birds flying in and out of it.

I closed my eyes and let it all sink in.

Just as I felt the cold wind hit my face, I heard soft crying. I opened my eyes and looked around.

I saw someone sitting on the other side of the bridge, crying into their hands. I slowly stood up and walked over to them silently. I saw it was a guy, and he didn't have a thick jacket for weather like this.

Without saying a word, I knelt down beside him and hugged him, trying to warm him up. He immediately hugged me back and started crying on my shoulder.

I sat down beside him, letting him cry. After a while, he stopped, and I felt something cold and sticky on my shoulder where his arm was. I looked at my shoulder and saw blood.

I gasped, and looked back at him.

It was Ashton.

His eyes were red from crying, and his hair was messy. He wore a light jacket and black skinny jeans. His black converse looked worn out, and not warm at all. His skin was pale and he looked cold.

I looked down at his wrist, seeing a trail of blood coming down his hand. I slowly reached for his sleeve, afraid he might push me away. He silently watched me as I pulled his sleeve up and saw 7 deep, bleeding cuts on his wrist.

I pulled his other sleeve up but that arm was clean. I could feel tears wanting to spill but I kept them in just so he wouldn't start crying again.

"Why?" I asked him softly.

"I regret letting go of her." He said, his voice cracking a bit. "And I can't do it anymore. The stress and pressure is too intense."

I took off my scarf and gave it to him. I gently wrapped it around his neck as he shivered.

"Thank you." He said.

"You have to get back home. Inside where it's warm." I told him.

"I can't go back. I already left." He said softly.

"What do you mean?" I asked, confused.

I stood up and helped him up as we started walking off the bridge. He stayed silent as we walked towards the city, but stopped as we neared the street.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I can't go. The paparazzi will find me." He said, backing up.

I nodded in understanding and we started walking back to the bridge.

"Then where can we go?" I asked.

"I know I just met you and all, but could we please go to your place? I have nowhere else to go." He said, sounding like he was about to start crying again.

"I'm not sure my father will be okay with it." I sighed.

"Please?" He asked, looking down at me.

I contemplated what to do.

Take him home and most likely get in trouble or leave him here alone?