Grey, Black, And White

Marble Blue-Grey

I'm a little lost. I'm a little tired. I'm a little upset.
I'm a little worried. I'm a little sad. I'm a little sleepy.
I feel like I want to jump, but just a little bit...

There is nothing sadder than to see someone so hopeless. Someone with so much potential to grow and do amazing things. Just imagine, how a person can feel some sort of way one day and the next day, they want to end their lives? I worry for them. But I'm not worried about her. So she runs to the town's bridge, the suicide bridge, at least which is what I call it. Every year there is someone new to stand on the edge looking down at the flowing cold river. This year, she is the one to take the place. Funny thing is, she's tried hurting herself before several times but never had the guts to take her own life. Earlier in the morning she and Evan argued about something that they all promised to never talk about. Their beloved parent's death.
"You liar! You are a fucking liar!" she remembers her brother yelling at the top of his lungs.
She looks down with her dejected eyes and her fair face so dull. There is no one to pass by to empathize her. After all, it is nowhere near the town. The bridge was made of white brick and marble which helped it stand out between all the camouflaged green trees. A figure stands next to her at the edge. It was black and its pale, virile hand held a cigarette. She then gasps, startled from the sudden advent. It was the man in the dark trench coat that she had seen the other day. He takes a hit of the cigarette looking forward at the cloudy sky. He looked young, around early twenties with a chiseled pale face and onyx tinted hair that partly covered his forehead. Blair doesn't say a word. There wasn't much to say either way.
"Look at those rocks. So rigid anyone could crack their head opened with a poor fall. Perfect don't you think?" He turns to her with a flimsy grin. He then takes another hit of his cigarette. "Well let me tell you something before you jump since I'm already here and I got nothing better to do. When a person feels hopeless and decides to commit suicide the way you are about to, they will hesitate for a few minutes. Then, they will jump, and as they are falling, in those few seconds all that will run through their mind will be excessive amount of solutions to their problems. Do you want to know how I know?"
Blair just stares blankly with a puzzled expression.
"No? Ok I'll tell you anyway." He continues with his raspy voice. "Every year, there are suicides committed in this same bridge and only a few have survived the fall. They live to tell their experience and all comes back to the same topic. They all regret it the second they jump."
"I won't regret it." She says.
-"Oh?"
"I won't regret it because there is no reason to be here. I've done enough to hurt everyone I love. How could this affect them any less?"
-"Everyone gets upset, and you are upset. You're just a little bit upset, Blair."
"How do you know my name?"
-"I just know." He smiles, turning his head back at the river.
"You're a ghost." She says, not caring whether he was one or in a much more realistic way, a stalker.
-"Hmm...You could say that."
"I don't care anymore. I'm tired."
-"Then jump." He proceeds with a careless tone.
Blair starts to hesitate. She felt so confident to do it before he came. Then again she always does and never finishes what she started. It felt very high from where she stood.
"I will." She replies.
"Ok." He holds her hand while throwing his cigarette down the river. "Then let's jump together."
Before she could say anything to prevent it, the man insinuates the jump and all she could do is hold tight on his arm and chest. She closes her eyes tightly and all she could hear were the sounds of bird wings flapping in the air. Blair couldn't bear the thought of how much the fall would hurt but in this case she suddenly feels her feet touch the ground. She opens her eyes and realizes she stood back up on the middle of the bridge. He was gone. Maybe her guess was right, he was a ghost. When realizing that his presence was gone, she couldn't stop thinking of how they all knew her name. There was something about this town that haunted her. She couldn't stop thinking about the stories Greer had told her about the mansion and why they were so open about it. Blair did believe almost everything she heard, everything that didn't sound normal at all I would say.
She had already forgotten about what happened between her and her brother. Maybe that was the 'ghost's' intention? To forget her pain because being alive was exactly what she was meant to be. At least for now. She arrives home expecting to see her brother still upset and probably in isolation. He always locked himself in his room and minded his business, but he isolated himself even more after the death of his parents. Evan wasn't the type of brother who would tease his sister or who would act rebellious against his parents or teachers. He was completely opposite from that. Evan was shy, and he didn't like talking much. His face was so bright and full of color when they were still alive, but unfortunately that all changed throughout time. He was so upset at Blair for all the things she did that sent her to juvenile hall for a whole year, and he was so afraid of her because in fact, he was the one who discovered her next to their father's corpse.
Blair walks up to her bedroom but just before she enters, she hears voices coming through Evan's bedroom. Whatever the voices were saying, she couldn't identify the words. It sounded like gibberish. Slowly, she leans her head on his bedroom door to listen closely. The voices stop and Evan soon opens the door.
"Evan?" She asks. "Who's in there with you?"
-"No one. Why do you ask?"
Blair feels suspicious but tries to forget the matter and move on with her day. Evan wasn't lying and she could tell. That is one of her many gifts; to read people well like a book.
"I'm sorry... about what happened this morning." She says.
-"Me too." Evan apologizes with a sincere tone.
Blair didn't tell him what happened back at the bridge, even though they trusted each other enough, this time, it felt different for her. It was something worth keeping a secret for now. Not only it could make her seem delusional, but it could also cause some tension between them. But she wasn't imagining it at all, I can assure you, because...I had the pleasure of being in the presence.

"You cannot tell them you tried to kill yourself."
Her thoughts flow through her head looking at the bitter reflection of her heart-shaped face through the round champagne gold mirror.
"I have to tell someone." She says.
"If they find out, you will go back to long hours of solitary and grey rock-like couches. Now tell me, do you really need that right now?"
"But what if what happened was real?"
"Does it really even matter? No one will believe what you saw. No one ever does. You've lied so much that even the truth can't save you."
Standing perfectly still, Blair blankly stares at her reflection.
"Or maybe you really are just plain crazy." Her reflection responds with a slight grin.
Blair turns her back covering her face, thinking it all just may be her mind playing games. She looked out her window at the tall mansion across the wall and then sat to paint. Not a single word, not a single complaint, but just a long stroke of marble blue-grey.
The night approaches and the lonely streets become the death traps for young, helpless maidens. A young woman with provocative outwear runs through a dark ally, afraid that she's being followed by someone who preys on her like wolf does a lamb. She pants from exhaustion while she forces herself to escape more than her heels can allow but the ally reaches to an end. The vicious man with poorly shaved beard and business suit corners her against the wall.
"Please don't hurt me!" she exclaims.
"You wretched whore, you think you can run away from me?!" he grabs her neck pointing a gun to her head, planning to scare her enough for him to take her away.
-"That's no way to treat a lady." a feminine voice insinuates from behind.
The man turns his head over his shoulder and looks down at the female that wore a charcoal skirt up to her messy, pulled-up blonde hair. "What are you gonna do about it Goldie Locks?"
-"I don't think pointing a gun at her is going to solve anything or change her mind. "
"Oh yeah? Then what if I point it at you huh?!" he says as he changes his gun position towards her not caring about the woman in heels who falls to the ground curling herself against the moist brick walls. Then he approaches the girl in the charcoal skirt pointing it closer at her face.
-"You're just a miserable drunk man who steals from his job and uses the money on women like her for a cute night at a motel until you get bored and shoot them in the head."
"Oh believe me, you will end up like every single one of them! You're just a helpless little girl." he threatens back.
The girl calmly sighs looking down at the ground. Suddenly, she blinks back up with her piercing olive eyes and the man begins to turn red with veins popping out his skin, causing him to drop his gun. "First of all, my name is Greer, not 'Goldie Locks', second, I'm 22 which means I can drink the scotch you got on your back pocket, and third, I'm gonna burn your insides until they melt like the raspberry ice cream I had this morning which will make you beg for your worthless life. I find myself dealing with a lot of men like you and oh believe me, you will end up like every single one of them!"
Without laying a hand on him, his ears and eyes start to bleed, his skin turns grey and mouth opened struggling to scream from the pain. Chocking on his own blood and guts that clench inside his body. Nothing but the sound of his heart beating faster until it can no longer bump. His body falls on the hard cold ground under her rosy pink pumps, where his presence turns to dust. The woman in heels had a traumatized look in her face after what she had just seen.
"If I were you I'd buy myself some running shoes cuz' honey, heels are so not your color."
The woman crawls her way up and sprints whimpering out of the alley. The moon is still young and "Goldie Locks" ends the night with an ostentatious stroll through the lonely streets of Lords.