A Breath Too Late - Rocky Callen Page 0,34

wall, sliding down to plop ungracefully on the ground. Nothing about you is ungraceful. Except this.

The anger is gone.

That’s when I see it.

In your eyes, a desperate, sad, wild thing.

And it scares me.

Because I know what you want to do.

Because I had been there … and done it already.

You get up, walking quickly.

You wanted to lose yourself. Let go. My eyes scan our surroundings and I hold my breath. Everything suddenly seems too pointy and dangerous and I want to lock you in your room and keep you safe.

But I can’t.

You pull out a little Ziploc bag of pills from your pocket. You are swaying on your feet. You go and get another beer and pop the pills in your mouth and down it with several huge gulps. The beer is dripping from your chin.

You stumble, tripping over broken branches and falling to your knees. You crawl a few paces and retch into the green, overgrown grass. The pills are out of you, I think, but you are still heaving in air and coughing out spit. You are something other and it makes you look ugly. I never thought that you could look ugly, but you do now.

You are laughing and clawing at the air as if you don’t know whether the air around you is hilarious or terrifying. Maybe you didn’t cough up all of the pills? I see the shift in your eyes … as if you are seeing something that is there, but it’s not. Sitting up abruptly, you begin to shift back. All terror now.

And for just a moment, I think you look at me. Your eyes, like a feather, graze mine softly before you pause, brow narrowing, sweat dripping.

“August?” I reach out.

And you scream. At first I think it is because you see me, but your eyes are settled beyond me, afraid. You’re on your feet, clawing at the air as if bats are attacking you. You’re desperately trying to make them go away. “Get OFF me!” you scream. Whirling, you stumble and trip away. I can’t catch you despite my outstretched arms.

Then you stop. You are staring at the gap in the wood, where the little window opening in the side of the bridge shows the beautiful river churning and racing below. “Ellie?” Your voice is hoarse, broken.

I blink, waiting for you to turn around.

“August?”

You don’t turn around, but take a step closer to the side of the bridge.

“Ellie…” Your voice hitches. “Is that you?”

I look at the spot where you were just staring, staring as if I am actually there looking back at you, but I’m not. I’m five paces behind you with nothing for you to see.

You take another step.

“Ellie, don’t!” It’s like a wail and a command forged together. Another mingle of emotion and words that makes something entirely new. Falling to your knees, you’re reaching, shaking. “Ellie! Please!”

Your body is shaking so hard, it looks like you have the power to make the bridge rumble. You stretch out your arms as if you truly hope you can grasp the nonexistent me you’re seeing. “Please—” Your voice cracks again as if something inside you reaches out to steal your words back and drown them. “I can’t catch you.”

I stare at you. I didn’t know a strong person could break. I thought you had to be born ruined or be chipped away slowly over time. I didn’t know that just one thing—one loss—could shred a person to pieces. But here is the evidence.

Two days ago, there was a boy named August and his smile was bright and beautiful and he played guitar, and made geeky, intelligent jokes, and could laugh off jabs and make girls blush, and all he was armed with was his notebook. Two days later, after an announcement made in a classroom, days skipped from school, and a bottle of pills purchased, here you are now at this ledge.

“No!” Your scream bellows out and knocks me back. Trying to stand, you fall and desperately drag your feet, half-crawling, half-stumbling, to the bridge wall.

You stare into the water as if you have seen me jump in. The moon glints off the current, beautiful and deadly. “No, no, no, no, no,” you cry, shaking your head from side to side, choking on tears. Starting to rip off your shirt, you step up onto the ledge. “I’ll catch you … I promise … I’ll get you.”

You are going to jump in.

You are going to die.

I rush toward you, reaching. Emotions go to