When people say they aren't happy, does that mean they aren't, or does that mean that they just didn't get what they want? What do you think of the most happiest people are the saddest, the most quiet people are the loudest, the most talkative person talks a lot because he or she doesn't get any attention at home, the meanest person has no one to love or be loved. Not everyone has a perfect life, or has a perfect life but isn't happy with themselves, that's how 14 year old Lydia Taylor feels, she has a good life but to her, she isn't happy with her self, she feels her mum and dad is disappointed with her, she feels that her brother hates her, she feels like everyone hates her. So she ran to where she usually goes, the bridge. Today was different today was the day she had enough, today was the day she left...forever.
It was stormy outside and she was soaking wet Her mascara and eyeliner running down her face from the rain and tears she stood by the railing and let out a sob. This is it. She thought. She gripped the railing till her knuckles turned white. She let out a sigh and put one leg over the railing. She was then forcefully pulled back from almost over the railing and into some guys arms. It wasn't just some guy it was Harry, the one who sits behind her in my math class, the guy She has been crushing on since year 3.
"Don't." He whispered. Hugging her as tight as possible, Lydia sobbed into his shirt screaming as if she was in pain.
"Please don't." He said his voice cracking as if he was going to cry too.
"Shh." He said. "I'm here for you." They stayed there for a for a few moments and her sobbing and ugly cries died down, into hiccups and irregular breathing.
"Why?" he asked pulling away, the rain coming down in a drizzle.
"Everyone hates me, I'm a disappointment, I'm, I'm an embarrassment." She ranted
"No." He shook his head water droplets falling from his hair. "Your not, your perfect, nobody hates you."
"Yes they do." She whispered.
"I don't." He said she looked up and he smiled. "I don't hate you, I think you're pretty, and funny, and smart, and I could go on,"
"I don't hate you, I-I love you." He finished.
•
Harry was walking home in the rain his umbrella held tightly in his hand, he was crossing the bridge that goes straight into his neighborhood, when he saw golden brown hair flying and flopping everywhere. It was a girl, not just a girl, the girl, Lydia Taylor, the girl that sits in front of him in his math class, the girl he has been in love with since grade 7 . She put one leg over the railing, Harry dropped the umbrella and sprinted towards Lydia, before she could get her other leg over the railing and jump to her death. He pulled her back and hugged her as tightly as possible.
"Don't." Harry whispered hugging Lydia tightly. How could she do this, how could she try take her life, she has family, she has people who love her and she was going to throw it away he thought. She sobbed loudly Almost screaming.
"Please don't." He said, Harry wanted to cry himself but had to stay strong for Lydia.
"Shh." he said, "I'm here for you." He said, they stayed there for a while, her sobs dying down. She seemed so vulnerable, she is so fragile that just one touch she could break.
"Why?" He asked her, why would you do this he though. If he hadn't gone out and came back at this time, then she would have been gone from his life and he wouldn't know what to do with it.
"Everyone hates me, I'm a disappointment, I'm, I'm an embarrassment." She gushed. That just made harry upset, who would put such nonsense into her head?
