I walked down the street of New York, a huge step up from the little town I’d grown up in. I walked through time square, my eyes focused on the ground beneath me. I’d walked this path what felt like a thousand times since I’d moved to New York in June.
I walked up the stares of my office building, pulling my long brown hair back into a ponytail as I did so, my eyes still focused on the ground beneath me. I had another twenty minutes before my shift started, giving me just enough time to enjoy a cigarette on the roof of my building, a pass time I’d picked up somewhere in late August. I pushed through the heavy steel door that lead onto the roof, and took in a deep breath of the smog and anger that was New York.
I looked up from the ground to see a boy standing on the ledge of the building, his shoulders bobbing up and down quickly as he took deep breaths. I looked at him a while, studying his back. He was not much younger than I was, possibly even my age- that age being twenty three. I moved forward, somehow finding my voice gone.
“Excuse me?” I said. The boy jumped - not in the jump off the building literal sense, but in the fearful “I thought I was alone” sense. He turned to face me, tears in his eyes. I quirked my head, studying him more now that I could see his face.
“W-what?” He asked fearfully. I motioned for him to get down from the ledge, but he did not oblige. I sighed - this happened more frequently than it really needed to, my needing to stop the jumpers. I walked over, taking his hand and pulling him down from the edge.
“You picked a rather odd place to jump from,” I said, sitting him down on the cool ground beneath us, and lighting a cigarette. He quirked his head now, giving me a rather confused expression. I let out a breath of smoke, making sure to face as much away from him as I could without taking my eyes off of him.
“Killing yourself on the roof of a psychologist's office, I mean,” I said, a small smile on my lips. He looked surprised, but still allowed a small grin to form on his cheeks.
“I’m Annabelle,” I said, “It’s nice to meet you,” I smiled. He held a bewildered expression, one mixed with amount of sadness. I placed my hand on his shoulder, and gave a warm smile. He didn’t pull away though, but rather, stayed still under the small amount of pressure I was putting on his shoulder.
“Anthony,” He said smoothly. I nodded - Anthony. I loved that name, it was such a good name.
“I once dated a boy named Anthony,” I said, pulling the pack of cigarettes from my purse again and pulling out yet another, as well as offering Anthony one. He held up his hand to decline, but kept a warm expression plain on his cheeks.
“Yeah? What happened to him?” He asked with the amount of curiosity you would find in a small child. I shrugged my shoulders, pulling my hand from his shoulder after having realized it had remained firmly placed there.
“There’s something about boys named Anthony and killing themselves, isn’t there?” I asked, a good amount of humor in my voice, “You’re the second I’ve met, but still,” I shrugged. Anthony nodded his head slightly, and then my words seemed to finally hit him as his expression changed from calm, maybe even bored, to sorry. I patted his shoulder, blowing out a ring of smoke as I did so.
“How old are you, Anthony?” I asked, looking straight into his dark brown eyes. They were more chesnut though, if you really allowed yourself to study them.
“Eighteen,” He said. I nodded my head, standing and holding out my hand to help him up. He took it, raising to his feet then.
“Much too young,” I said, smiling slightly, “Go home, change into something worth exercising in, go for a run, and then call me,” I said, pulling a pen from my bag and writing my phone number on his hand.
“If you don’t call me by the end of the day, I’m calling the police,” I said sternly, “We need not lose yet another beautiful Anthony,” I smiled. Anthony smiled back at me, only now did I realize how high he towered over me.
I stood on my tiptoes and placed a warm kiss on his cheek, my lips hovering just above his ear, “No matter what, Anthony, nobody is worth killing yourself over, no situation, nothing,” I said, “Call me if you need to talk, okay?” I said, pulling away from him and smiling. He nodded, and I walked him down the stairs and onto the main road. I watched him walk a while, before I was sure he was okay and would do as I had instructed him to do.
I walked up the stairs yet again into my building, this time entering my office. My receptionist, Elaine, gives me a warm smile, with a hint of stern jokingness in her eyes.
“You’re late,” She said.
“No actually, I was just on time,” I said, winking at her and entering my personal office.
YOU ARE READING
We Found Love
TienerfictieAnnie Sulliven was your typical teenager, she was bubbly, smart, and an amazing dancer, but that all changed after a tragic incident, leaving her scarred for life. After trying to kill herself on more than one occasion, she landed herself in a "teen...