Thank You Mr. Hiddleston

Chapter 1- The Runner

My mind was spinning a thousand miles a minute. I didn't have control, and in fact, I was pretty sure that there was no hope for me anymore.

I had always been suicidal, but it was getting really bad. I don't even know what I did that was so bad because I have blocked it out of my mind since. I can tell you, however, that Tom Hiddleston was the one that saved me.

The first time he did so, I was 14 years old and I had no idea who he was. I was sitting slouched on a bench with my face in my hands. This bench was in the middle of a random park in my hometown and it was my favorite spot to go and cry. In this instance, I believe I was crying because my conscience decided to tell me that I was a waste of space. I thought these thoughts were finally going to stop, but things never do work out the way we plan them to.

Well, now that you have that sob story, back to the bench. I had my face in my hands and I am pretty sure that I was crying quite loudly. Many runners and families passed by. None ask me what's wrong or if I need help, it is quite upsetting, thinking about it now. Anyway, I was about 20 minutes into my crying fit, when I felt a warm hand on my shoulder.

"Are you alright, love?" The owner of the hand asked. I looked up to see a man standing above me. He was a runner. I could tell by his apparel and his ear buds. I just kind of stared at him. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know if I should run away because he was a stranger, or if I should answer him because it was a kind gesture. "You okay?" He asked again as if to refresh the air from its silence. He was still holding onto my shoulder when I decided to run.

I shove his arm away and take off as fast as I can. Unfortunately for me, I forgot he was a runner, and I, a lowly asthmatic. I didn't make it very far before he caught up to me. "I was just wondering if you were alright." He said patiently, hoping that I wouldn't cause a scene.

"Please leave me alone. I don't know what to think right now," I said assertively, which is quite surprising, considering I was a very passive person.

"Well, maybe I could help?" The man said as if he truly wanted to help me. This brought me back to tears. "Sorry, I just want to help."

I found it quite funny that he was apologizing for wanting to help. I think I kind of laughed. "I'm fine," I tried to say as courageously as I could.

"You don't look fine, and I won't leave you alone," he stated.

"You're right, but I don't want to bother you," I said quickly, knowing exactly what he was going to say.

"It's no trouble," he said as he grabbed my arm and brought me back to the tear-stained bench. I didn't put up a fight at all. He sat me down and then looked me in the eyes and said, "What's wrong?"

I knew I couldn't try the 'you wouldn't care anyway' thing, so I told him the truth. "I ... uh... I've been kind of having... suicidal thoughts." I don't know how I was so bold to say it so flatly, but I managed it.

"You know, I don't know a lot about suicide, but I know that nobody deserves those kinds of thoughts," he said poetically.

I tried to laugh it off, which I did with everything (and when I say everything, I mean everything). I was just so uncomfortable with the whole situation. "Try telling my head that," I finally decided to respond.

He kind of gave me that look, like 'this is no laughing matter', which often came from adults. I don't even know why I was surprised. This was always the reaction when I tried have a conversation with an adult.

"See, this is why I can't go telling people things," I said quietly.

"It's okay, just say what you need. I am here to listen, remember," he said gently.

"There's not much to say, except that my life is perfect and I shouldn't be complaining. I have a good life, a good family, I'm not starving, I have a home, I haven't been abused, and... I just have no reason to justify my suicidal thoughts except that I hate my anxieties, my physical problems, and just... myself," I said quickly as if I was hoping he wasn't listening or wouldn't understand.

"There is no reason you should try to justify suicidal thoughts, just know that you can get rid of them," he said assertively.

His last statement really got to me. He really made me think about the whole situation. The whole time, I was trying to find a reason for me to think such horrible things. I should've been trying to find a way to help get rid of the thoughts.

"I can help you try to get rid of them. I'll talk to you any time you want," he paused, "Tell, you what. I will go running everyday for the next two weeks, at 5 o'clock in the evening. If I see you on this bench, I promise I will take all of my time to talk to you."

"Why would you do that? I don't even know you!"

"You just need to know that I am a person willing to help," he said calmly, opposing my rising tone.

"Does that mean that I don't even get to know your name?" I asked him. I genuinely wanted to know his name, because I thought that it was really nice that he would do something like this and try to talk to me.

"I guess you can." He shrugged. "The name's Tom," he said as he outstretched his hand. "Tom Hiddleston."

"Well thank you Mr. Hiddleston, it has been a pleasure talking to you," I say as politely as I can, remembering my manners. I stood up slowly after my comment, thinking the conversation was over.

"Hm... Mr. Hiddleston? Polite little gal aren't you?" He said as grown up as it sounds.

I couldn't help but laugh. He was a funny guy. He shot up off the bench and he gave me a hug before I knew what was happening. My arms just kind of wrapped around the man. I wanted to return the favor for him letting me take up his time.

After the hug was over, I once again said, "Thank you, Mr. Hiddleston, it's been a pleasure." I then proceeded to run away again.

This time, Tom didn't try to catch me. Instead, he shouted, "The pleasure was all mine."