She's Trying

It had been a long day, no, a long year, and Christa Renz was tired. She sat on the railing of the bridge she was on and let her legs hang over the side. She had spent most of her first high school year doing her best, polishing every piece of herself until she shone. She made sure to give her all in school; like her dad always wanted her to. Though her body was small and delicate, she determined to excel in sports. By design, Christa always looked perfectly presentable.

But with the fourth quarter of school just beginning, the pressure of perfectionism was too much. Christa was done. She was sick of trying so hard for so long... and for what? She did not get appreciated, or have the happiness and friends she had hoped she would. More than anything she was so tired.

Christa had tried everything to climb out of her resulting depression, but therapists hadn't helped. She had thought about cutting, but she knew her dad would have been livid if he found out she had imperfections on her body.

"Can't ruin a future model's body, can we dad..." Christa murmured to herself. Then she chuckled. The joke was on him, for the only thing this body was going to be in the future was decomposing.

Christa stood up from the railing onto the bridge's ledge and started to step off. She sighed for the final time as she slid her foot away from firm ground.

"Are you going to jump?" an alarmed voice right behind Christa made her stop in her tracks.

Christa gripped back onto the railing and swung her blonde head around to see who interrupted her. "Huh?" she stuttered, teary blue eyes wide, "Who are you? L-leave me alone!"

The brunette behind Christa just stood there, hands up defensively.

"If you get closer I will jump!" Christa's voice shook.

The brunette stood there for a moment, assessing the situation, before shrugging. "Ok, ok..." she said and leaned, seemingly relaxed, against the railing. She put her hands in the pocket of her hoodie. "Chillax." As calm as her body appeared, concern never left the teen's honey colored eyes.

Silence followed. Neither were really sure what to say or do next. Christa gnawed on her cheek, the anxiety that she pushed back for so long taking over.

Finally the brunette spoke. "So, why are you so upset?"

"What do you care." Christa muttered, staring into the inky sea far below her. The railing she was gripping was so cold her hands were almost numb.

"I don't know... I'm just curious what makes you want to do this..." the brunette asked, hesitating before adding, "Christa?" She stared at the blonde, at Christa, gauging her reaction.

Christa gasped, and stared at the brunette like one would if they were face to face with a shark. She hadn't planned on anyone being a witness to her death, especially not someone who knew who she was.

"I've seen you around at school." the brunette continued, "You are always working hard on something, and I admire that in you. You're also really pretty; how could I not notice a girl like you?" she smiled a little, "Especially since, even though you are always working hard or helping others, you always seemed lonely."

Christa kept staring warily into the sharp honey eyes of the teen. Eventually Christa shrugged and stared back at the murky waters. "There's no point in telling you." she said bluntly.

"You can try." Ymir said, and turned her body so that she was now facing the railing. She squatted until she was sitting on her ankles, and could be short enough to rest her head onto her hands holding the railing. "I'm a good listener." she prodded.

Christa thought for a moment. She figured it didn't really matter if she told her story or not. Christa doubted that the teen would understand her, though. Just like the other people at school. Christa begrudgingly complied.