I was walking in the cold rain. My hair now damp and toes cold. It was a bittersweet cold, just enough to give your cheeks a little color, but still quite unpleasant. I hugged my jacket a little closer to my chest and started to walk double time. There was no time to admire the lights nor the buzzing in the square. Nobody seemed bothered by the rain. Uncanny. The Juniper trees thanked the sky above for the beautiful drizzle. I nudged passed a middle aged man wearing a orange and blue colored scarf. He held a smiling child. She had eyes the color of the ocean, and was holding a red lollipop, half of it now a ring around her chapped lips.
Still, nobody seemed to mind the rain.
It caught my eye. I don't know how, I was in such a rush. There. Standing atop the Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris stood a woman. She was wearing a darling pair of gold and royal blue earrings from Tiffany's, and a khaki colored trench coat that reached down to her bare feet. One string of the jacket, much longer than the other. She had tears streaming down her face. Although it could've been the rain. I stood horrified, thinking of all my options. There's a police officer about 50 feet from me, I could run to him and alert him of the news, however I may not get very far in my heels.
No—there's no time for options. I started to swiftly walk, knocking shoulders with every person in my path. The rain slapped my face. I kept my eyes on the woman. They were definitely tears. Her mascara started to cascade down her fair cheeks. I wanted to yell to her, to say anything, but it felt like my vocal chords had been cut.
I bet she has a family. Two kids with golden blonde hair and toothy grins. A husband who wears a pressed suit everyday. I can't imagine what is going through her mind. She took a step forward, her bare toes on the edge of the cracked stone.
How is it, NOBODY sees this poor woman. I break into a sprint. I reach the huge stained glass building and throw open the doors. The Cathédrale is vacant. I stumble up the five flights of stairs praying this woman is still there when I reach the top. I slip on the marble steps and hit my knee, I can feel the blood dripping down my leg, but I'm so close. I swing open the door that leads to the roof. The only things up here are the ancient bells and her.
I gently approach her. She must hear me because she turns in an instant. She looked so scared. She had a large bruise that covered her left cheek bone, it was a dark purple color, almost like a plum.
Her hands. There was dried blood underneath her fingernails that was getting washed off by the rain as we speak.
I want to say something, anything but nothing comes out. I look into her sad honey colored eyes. Searching for an answer. She gives me a poignant smile, almost genuine.
Then falls back.
That's when my voice decides to speak up. I let out a petrified screech. I hurl myself to the ledge, almost knocking the wind out of myself. She has a family.
A mom.
A mom who cooked stacks of blueberry pancakes on Sunday mornings. A mom who bandaged papercuts and skinned knees. A mom who listened to the drama that went on in school. She had a mom.
A dad.
A dad who taught her how to change a tire. A dad who protected his baby girl from ever danger in the world. A dad who took her to the bakery every Friday after school to get her favorite donut. She had a dad. Or did she? How do I know. I don't.
It took her a century to hit the concrete. But once she did, I could hear her delicate skull crack in two. Her honey eyes, finally happy, it was all over.
What could've happened to this poor girl, to make her think this was the only way out?
And to think. I was worried about the rain.
