Freed [N.H.]

Ch. 38

"Took you long enough."

I stayed silent, due from shock, and gaped at Sam.

"Rain is picking up. We gonna jump anytime soon?"

Finally I snapped out of it and started yelling.

"You're a fucking prick! You know that? You lied to me this whole time!"

Sam shoved his hands into his pockets and gave me a 'wtf' look.

"Lied to you? I didn't do shit. It was you who couldn't remember."

I scoffed, "Oh I'm sorry that I didn't recognise you on spot! If I recall correctly it was dark, you had a hoodie on, and I was bawling my eyes out!"

"And I told you this was my spot. Which is obviously another thing you forgot," he added.

"You son of a bitch! Just shut up! You screwed this up once and I won't let you do it again," I shouted.

"I'm not here, as you say, to screw it up. I'm here to get it over with. So are you ready to die, Jess?"

I blinked my eyes a few times before letting out a loud groan.

"You're fucking with my head again, Samuel. Just like you did then."

Fifteen months ago...

"I'm gonna do it...I'm gonna do it!"

I took a deep breath and peaked over the ledge again.

Shit that was a long ways down...

"But I'm gonna do it!"

"I hope by it you mean jump off the roof and not some weird sexual thing."

I screamed and flinched at the sudden voice. But regretted it as I began to loose my balance.

A hand though reached out and pulled me off the ledge. Not only preventing me from falling but in a way saving my life.

"Who the hell are you," I snapped while pulling my arm out of the hand.

Finally, I looked up to see a guy in a black hoodie in front of me.

He was slightly taller, had brown eyes, and looked horrible. Like horrible as in hasn't slept in days.

"That's not important," he muttered.

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms over my chest. "Well look, whoever you are, I don't have any drugs and I'm not looking to hook up so please leave me the fuck alone."

A quiet chuckle slipped from his mouth and I only got more frustrated.

"What's so funny?"

"The fact that you think I thought you were a drug dealer or a hooker. Cus sorry girly, you don't look like either of those things."

I reached out and slapped his arm. "What so I don't look like I have needles in my pockets or that I'll spread my legs open for a five?"

"Not even in the slightest."

I fought the urge to reach out and slap him again, because really I was confused if I should be insulted or flattered.

"You're blonde hair looks too nice for you to be poor, your face doesn't show any signs of drug usage, and the fact that you're in jeans and a sweater shows that you're not up here for sex. If you were, I think you would be dressed a bit more revealing," the guy explained.