I Dont Do Too Well On My Own

The Fifty-Seventh Chapter

Pete looks up, his wide eyes brown.

"No, Im not depressed, just curious." I state.

"I took everything. All of it. Then when I overdosed- nothing. Cold turkey." Pete says curiously.

I tilt my head up to the heavens. There is a small stain on the roof.

I dont really know where this is leading.

"Im going to get some fresh air. You dont need to get me." I nod, walking at the door.

My heart throbs for something and nothing.

I walk out and up some stairs, the lift doesnt go any further. But the stairs lead to the roof.

This is what I need.

The wind whips at me and almost pushes my straight off the edge. I slowly stagger to the edge and sit down, holding onto the single bar keeping me from tottering over and down. My feet are controlled by the gusts of air off the edge.

You can see the whole city from here.

Different land marks highlighted by lights and tiny cars whizzing down the cross stitch roads.

My feet dangle off the edge and my breath is taken away about how dark it is, yet how light it is at the same time.

Nobody down there knows about me or cares. Thats a good thing.

Each little person is so self obsessed that they dont have the capacity to understand other problems.

There may have been a car crash a bit of the way down. I dont care.

Im the car crash I care about.

I lick over my lips. The wind only makes it harder for me to enjoy myself.

The music of the winds static does not help the view, yet it does make it more real.

I know how this is all meant to end.

I cross my arms and scan other roof tops for someone about to take the drop. Its all empty tonight.

"Hey! Dont. Jump." Someone shouts.

"You think I was going to jump?" I yell.

"Youve got so much to live for!"

Wind carries my words off the edge.

"Come back and at least talk to me!" Patricks reading his lines.

"I dont want to die I just wanted to see the view!" I yell.

Again, my voice is carried away. This is frustrating.

"Please! Im sorry! We can make this better!"

Staggering steps stop right behind me. I turn around, Patrick is teary eyed.

Patricks been a mess recently.

This is the low before the high.

Patrick, centre stage, wrong end of the stick.

Skye, stuck in supporting role, not going to die in the next 5 minutes.

I sigh, standing slowly and walking towards him.

I put my hand to his face, steadying him.

"I wasnt going to kill myself." I say calmly.

"What?" He shouts over the wind.

"I wasnt going to kill myself." I yell.

I take his hand and lead him to the steps by the roof.

I can assure you, I still feel that tingle in between our palms.

"Patrick." I start, sitting on a step. "I wasnt going to kill myself. Honestly, I promise."

He is breathing heavy. His true blue eyes stuck to mine.

"Patrick, you need a rest. Im perfectly fine and you... You need to realise that Im fine."

"You know." He blurts. "When people ask why you did something, you cant say because it would make me popular."

Water lines his eyes and his cheeks are red like the blood under his skin.

"You have to make an excuse to explain why you do anything. Cant I just do something?"

"You need a rest from the fame-"

"I just want to do something spontaneous and not have a reason."

Now Im just waiting for the line that seals it all.

I can see thousands of cogs turning in his head and his breathing is erratic. He is planning something big.

His eyes flick back to mine and he clicks out of the crazy, scared persona that he was just moments ago.

"You drive me crazy." He laughs.

He relaxes again and I bite on my lip.