thin. A pang resonates in my chest at the agony in the face staring back at me. Shit, this isn’t good.
She lifts a shaky hand and wipes her face. Her soft voice sounds through the sobs as her chest heaves from too much crying. “And why is that?”
My brows bunch in and I bite the inside of my cheek before saying the wrong thing. I open my mouth to speak—to give the same ridiculous spiel my training tells me to use in situations like these, but the truth begs to come out and I’ve never been one to follow the rules.
I take another step closer and the pressure on my chest alleviates the slightest knowing I’m closer to her, within reach.
“Might hurt yourself.”
Okay. Maybe not the smartest fucking thing to say.
She scoffs and flicks her gaze back over the water as she mutters, “That’s the point, jackass.”
My lips curve into a small smirk at her attitude, and relief unwinds the tension in my muscles because she just gave me everything I needed to know.
She’s still got an attitude, she’s still got fight in her. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t stop to hesitate. She’d jump off this bridge with a sense of relief. Maybe it wouldn’t happen quite like that. I’ve never claimed to be a profiler. But watching her right now, this can’t be what she really wants.
Moving to the railing, I come up beside her. “So you think jumping off a bridge is gonna solve all your problems for you?”
“Yes.” Fear creeps into her shaky voice.
I grimace at her response and anger ignites within the questions in my head. Who had such a power over this girl to convince her this is where she should be? That she should end her life because she isn’t worthy of this world, isn’t good enough to be here?
My lips flatten into a hard line as I hold in the hatred I already have for someone I don’t know. Fucking assholes of the world. “Well, you’re wrong. They’ll still be there, long after you jump.”
I didn’t mean to sound like an asshole, but when she cringes and her shoulders curl over her chest, I realize my mistake. I open my mouth to apologize but her words halt me.
“It doesn’t matter. The moment I hit that water and all the life is taken from this body of mine, I’ll be a shell of nothingness, which won’t be that much different to what it is now,” she whispers, her words so quiet I almost don’t hear them all.
I move closer to her but still don’t touch her. My hands itch to reach out and hug her, hold her. But I’m a stranger and the last thing this girl needs.
“Come on, let’s sit down for a minute. Maybe you can talk it out with someone. Get out whatever the bullshit in that head of yours is telling you to jump off a bridge.”
She sighs and slumps back around, gripping the railing in front of us with both hands. Sadness falls upon us when she hits back with reality. “Nobody wants to listen.”
Isn’t that the fucking truth?
I glance down to her small delicate hands, and shift mine beside hers. I want to comfort her, help her. I’ve felt helplessness. I’ve lived it and loathed it. I didn’t have anyone to help me when I needed it. I’m not about to let this girl feel alone, just like I did. If I can comfort her for a few minutes, an hour, just one night, it’ll be more than anyone’s given her. I sure as fuck won’t say the right thing, but I’ll try. I want to let her believe for a moment she’s wrong. Somebody does want to listen. Someone will always care, even if it’s a load of bullshit. I want to get her down, away from this bridge.
She glances at our hands, just a whisper away from one another before beaming up at me, confusion in her lost blue eyes. I cough past the awkwardness growing between us. Give me guns and bad guys any given day. This part of the job—the comforting victims—is not my thing.
“Let me listen.” I look straight into her eyes so she knows I’m serious.
She tilts her head to the side. Her brows furrow in as she whispers, “Why?” The cold December air blows white clouds out of her mouth.
I want to tell her it’s because I see something in her I’ve always seen in myself, and I’ll feel like absolute