The Red Bridge

It's big, it's red, and it stands 245 feet over the water. It's majestic and beautiful; it's the Golden Gate Bridge. It's the bridge many residents in San Francisco see on a daily basis, but never get to see the tragic deaths that take toll in such place. The bridge is one of the most popular places in the world to commit suicide.

Thousands of thoughts cross my mind, but I can only concentrate on: will I just be another person that ends their life by jumping from this bridge?

          I've already said my goodbyes to whom I thought were important. A simple wave to my so-called friends, a kiss on the cheek to my mother, and a hug to my younger sister. Once school finished, I slung my backpack over my shoulders, hopped on a cab, and  made my way to this grand place where I stood now. The wind whipped my hair back and forth as I looked down at the glittering water that laid below the bridge.

          This was it. This would be my last time on this cruel world. No more fighting, bullying, or disappointments. I'll finally be happy, escaping the torments my life has brought.

          Dropping my school bad to the ground, I place my hands on the railing and pushed myself up. I sat on the railing and looked down at the water.

          Even though I'd already made my decision, the decision of not jumping crossed my mind. Just a simple push caused by my hands can send me falling at ninety miles per hour until I hit the relatively hard surface of the water. But I wanted to jump. Permanent sleep and peace would make me happy.

          "I don't really think jumping would be such a great idea." A male voice from behind me spoke, startling me.

          I turned slightly to face the owner of the voice. "Who are you?" I ask.

          "That doesn't matter," he replied. "What does matter is who are you?"

          "Why are you avoiding my question?" I asked before he retorted with, "Why are you avoiding mine?" I narrow my eyes at him as his eye study me intently. What was he playing at? Couldn’t he see I was busy?

          "What's it like at home?" he asked, breaking the silence between us. Thinking thoroughly about his question, I decided I could answer it.

          "My dad's dead," I started. "My mom's alcoholic, but she tries really hard to hide it. My sister is a spoiled brat who doesn't ever leave my side and is always bothering me."

          He stayed silent as he shared the same view of the water as me. It was weird how he made no comment about my life at home, even though he was the one who asked.  "What about your friends?" he asked, breaking the silence.

          "What friends? They're not real. They don't care about me, and I don't care about them." I simply said.

          "So, you're ending your life because four or five people don't care about you, and you don't care about them? There must be someone out there who you care for, or cares about you in this world.”

          I simply shook my head as I looked at him. Something must've clicked inside his head because he quickly asked me about my sister, and I replied that she was younger than me. I didn’t get why my little sister was such an important question to him that he needed to know her age.

          "Did you tell her about your little plan?" He asked after some more silence. "About how she's going to fall asleep tonight being an only child? Maybe she's always wished to be an only child, and tomorrow she'll realize she hates it.  She'll want to have someone older to support and guide her through life, but her sister won't be there to. Did you tell her that?"

          I shook my head as I ferociously wiped away a tear that escaped the corner of my eyes. "Stop saying that. My sister hates me, and I hate her too."

          "I thought I hated my brother too," he quickly snapped.  "But the day I found out he had committed suicide on this same bridge was the day I realized how much I loved him. I also found out how much I would miss him. I’m an only child now, and to be honest, I don’t like it. I want him back, but I can’t do anything."

          His words brought me to a complete standstill. His brother had jumped from this very same bridge, and had emotionally scarred this boy. Meanwhile, I was about to do the same to my little sister. In that moment, I concentrated on two questions: Do I really want to hurt my sister in such way? Could I possibly compromise my happiness for my sister's?

          I heard the shuffling of feet beside me, and I knew the boy was walking away. My happiness or my sister's, I thought. I took a deep breath before I turned and jumped down to the deck. "Wait!" I called out to him as I slung my school bag over my shoulders, and ran out to his direction. "I may not have found someone that cares about me, but I have found someone I care about. My sister."

          A small smile tugged on his lips. "Of course you do," he said. "But you also found someone who cared for you."

          "Who?

          "Me," he replied. "And your sister. We tend to care for those who care back.  It's a human thing."

          He continued walking, and I could feel myself following him. I was slowly walking away from my death bed, and to a whole new life. Just a couple of minutes ago, I was ready to jump and die, but with some wise words and the help of my over thinking habits, I took the chance to stay alive and look for a second chance at life. This time, I would have someone that cared for me, and someone I could care for.

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Thank you for reading! This is the second short story I've ever written, and I'm quite proud of it. Sorry for any spelling mistakes; I am human after all.

Lots of love, G.

Remember, it gets better.