Man Overboard

39. Tomorrow Holds Such Better Days

I didn't notice the squealing of brakes from the road behind me. I didn't notice the thud of footsteps as someone ran at me, shouting my name. I heard it all, though it sounded more like a distant echo than something happening a few feet away; I just didn't pay attention to it. I had already made my decision. I wasn't going to let someone stop me, not like the last time I'd stood here.

I was too caught up in my own little world, just me and the waves and rocks below me. A world that was about to end. But then I was forced out of it, literally.

I was suddenly falling and screaming, which was what I was expecting to happen except it was in the wrong direction. Something was yanking on my shirt and pulling me backwards. I stumbled at the unexpected movement and my footing slipped on the gravel. I was sure I would've fallen off the cliff for real if it hadn't been for the arm that wrapped around my waist and pulled me, or rather slammed me, to the ground.

I cried out as small stones dug into my back, but the pain was nothing compared to what I would've felt if I had jumped. I opened my eyes, finally able to see my attacker (or savior, depending on how you looked at it) who was lying half on top of me, his body pinning me to the ground.

"Mark?" I exclaimed, more surprised than upset. "What the fuck?"

"Don't you 'what the fuck' me, Willow!" Mark retorted, his eyebrows pinching together in a menacing look. It was obvious he was furious and if I'd valued my life at all I would've been scared. "You were the one about to jump off a fucking cliff! I should be asking you 'what the fuck'!"

I squirmed slightly, trying to get off the ground, but Mark refused to budge. "How did you even find me?" I sighed with defeat.

Mark lifted his left hand, making sure to keep his other hand around my arm and pressed to the ground. I eyed the crumpled paper in his hand, instantly recognizing my own handwriting.

"I drove to Tom's house," Mark explained. "Did you really think I wouldn't ask him what'd happened when you were so upset? And then I saw this stuck in the door."

Mark shook the letter and my demeanor softened, realizing he had read my suicide note for Tom.

"I knew you would be here." Mark shook his head slightly, as if he hadn't wanted to believe it. "Tom used to make us pass by here whenever we were close. After going to the skate park, getting Sombrero's. Every single fucking time, right up until you moved in with us. He was so afraid that you were going to come back here, that you were going to finish what he had stopped you from doing. And now here you are."

My eyes started to well up. I had never known that. Neither of them had ever told me. It somehow managed to make me feel even worse. I felt guilty; that Tom had done it, that Mark had gone along with it, and that in the end it hadn't even mattered because I had still ended up here.

"What else was I supposed to do, Mark?!" I shouted, but it turned into a sob mid-sentence.

I was angry: angry at the world for being so shitty that it made me feel like this was my only way out, and angry at Mark for stopping me.

"You were supposed to fucking call me, Willow!"

Mark's eyes bored into mine and I could see now that he wasn't just mad at me. He was also hurt and scared, just like I had been not even a few hours ago.

"You were supposed to stay in my car and fucking talk to me!" Mark continued to shout. Tears started to roll down his face as he gripped my arm tighter. "How could you do this?"