The Girl On The Bridge 1

Author's note:

I kept debating on whether to share this story or not, but I think it would be cruel to keep it to myself. To make it easy on you, Emma will be speaking in present time and Camryn will be recounting the past. I did not intend for the story to be written that way, the characters chose that themselves.

XOXO SkylerLuv

**Warning**This story touches on topics of suicide, self-harm, and BDSM. Please enjoy one of my other stories if you are looking for something tamer.

~~~~

{Emma}

I am yanked out of the darkness.

I can't make sense of where I was or where I am.

What was that?

Slowly, my consciousness rolls itself out of a deep, deep slumber.

There it is again. A beep. A monitor? An alarm? It is faint and rings again after an alarming pause.

I groan.

"Emma?"

Mom?

My eyelids are weighted down, impossible to move. Where am I? I hear the beep again. I try moving my head but my neck is stiff. So stiff. It hurts to swallow. My mouth is dry. There is no saliva. Every inch of my body protests against any movement. I still try.

"Oh, don't try to move, sweetheart." Her voice breaks and she sniffles.

"Mom?" I force myself to reach out to her, through the pain I find her hand. Her hand is tiny in mine. Frail and wrinkled.

I try to open my eyes, even manage to move my lids a centimeter but the bright light forces them shut again. The buzzing light above us, the whiteness of the walls, the sunlight coming from the windows, it is all too much.

I groan again.

"Ken!" Her tone is more alert.

I feel another body come around to my other side. "Emma, oh my poor baby." My father sobs into my chest.

The fear in his voice frightens me. It is hard not to force my eyes to open from the distress their voices. I try opening my eyes slowly this time and manage to keep them open. It takes a while for them to adjust. They burn and no amount of blinking helps. I try to assure them with my eyes that I am okay. But I don't know if I'm okay. I don't know where I am. Based on how sterile the room is, I can assume I'm in a hospital. The beeping is my heartbeat being reflected on a small screen. Are the pauses supposed to be that long between each beep? Something is not right. Well, nothing seems right.

"Dad?" My voice is small and sounds more like a croak. Unrecognizable. "Mom, please. I'm okay." I close my eyes again to give them some rest.

It hurts to speak. My vocal cords grind against each other feeling like sandpaper is being shoved down my throat. I try one last attempt to open my eyes for good and reassure them that I am fine. I have to blink tears from my eyes before I'm able to see them clearly. I try to sit up but a sharp pain shoots up my spine. Fuck! I lay back against the bed, pretending that every nerve in my body isn't fighting for me to sit still.

My father is still crying against my chest, his arms are wrapped around my waist. My mother wipes my face and tries to put on a strong face. Her smile is forced, her lips pale, nothing at all like her usual collected look. Her short brown hair looks oily and tangled. How long have they been here?

"Ken, look at her. She's awake. She's here. She's okay." She pats his back.

He wipes his nose with the back of his thick hand and looks at me through bloodshot eyes. His lips tremble but he stops crying. I am his only baby girl. His fair hair is almost white, the wrinkles much more pronounced. He's aged years since I last remember him.

When was the last time I saw him?

"It's okay sweetheart. We're here. We're here." My mom wipes my tears away.

~~~~

{Camryn}

She is a shadow. Practically an afterthought.

Just a few seconds away from not being a person at all.

I lean further against the railing to get a better look at her face. By the look of her profile, I can tell she has a lot of resolve. Frail but unafraid. Definitely determined. She has probably gone through her whole life without voicing her own opinions and sits in the background while others take center stage.

A wallflower, wilting away right before my eyes.

Her pale skin is alarmingly white. Her cheeks cave in making her cheekbones appear sharper. There are dark circles under her eyes. Her hair is as dull and lifeless as she is. Like hay, yet much softer. She's all legs and arms. Thin. Much too thin.

There is enough room between us to fit a group of tourists from South Korea.

They're all alive. Taking pictures, capturing the sunny day on this sturdy bridge. Each one takes turns posing in front of the water. They're not loud and boisterous like others that I have seen, but compared to the lifeless girl next to them, their joy is almost offensive. She doesn't pay them any mind though. Her eyes are focused on the deep, dark waters below us. Does she notice the peaking rocks as well? I look down again trying to see them from her perspective. They've been there longer than we have been alive. How long has she been alive?

One of the bigger men in the group accidentally bumps into her but she barely notices. Her eyes look up at the clouds. Well, the single cloud in the sky. Just a wisp of it, transparent and unassuming. There is no emotion on her face. Nothing to betray her thoughts. But I hear her loud and clear. As if she is yelling at the top of her lungs but everyone around her is oblivious to the sound. But I hear her. The words may be incoherent but I want to believe I understand their meaning.

I dispose of my cigarette and make my way over to her.

"Hi." I lean against the railing and avoid looking directly at her. I look back down at the rocks.

She doesn't hear me.

It's like talking to someone on a different timeline. We're both here but are we even here at the same time? I picture her in the distant past, coming to this bridge to contemplate her life. And I am here now, trying to reach her. There is white noise surrounding her, making her less attainable. How can I penetrate through that? This is going to be tricky.

"How are you today?" I want to take out another cigarette but I don't want the smell to bother her.

Again nothing.

My fascination and concerns are purely selfish, I'll admit. I am attracted to dark things. Images, thoughts, people. She reminds me of my younger self. The one that had broken thoughts and no safe outlets. I always wondered what would have happened if I had someone genuinely ask me what was wrong back then. To truly care about my answer. An although my curiosity is selfish, I must also admit that deep down I want to take this girl out of her own head. Yes, I appreciate the mystery around her from an artistic point of view but I want to also appreciate her true self. If she shows me, I bet I would find a real treasure. I won't build her up to be something she is not in my head. I have done enough of that in the past.

The tourist group moves on, taking all the buzzing noise with them.

The bridge is now left bare.

"I'm fine." She smiles a little.

I feel slightly disappointed but relieved. Disappointed because it wasn't yelling that I thought I heard earlier. Maybe it was just a hearty sigh. She doesn't need help, she's okay. She is here now, not somewhere in the future or stuck in the past. Maybe today has just been rough on her. I've all been there.

"It's a lovely day." Her voice is delicate.

"It is." I look back out at the water and the twinkling lights from the sun's reflection.

We stand in silence once more and I take the hint. My presence is now imposing.

Never one to stay where I am not wanted, I pull back and sigh.

"I will see you around." I hope.

She nods.

I walk past her.

I guess going downtown will have to wait. I have spent too much time letting my mind obsess over her.

I don't want to turn back and look at her as I walk away. She will probably sense that I'm staring too. It will be too creepy. She is okay. She is fine. She smiled. I curse and turn back anyway. I don't know if I will ever see her again. One last look to burn into my brain should be enough.

My stomach drops as I see her pull her body up onto the metal railing. She plants one foot and then the other with determination, her arms shoot out as she tries to regain her balance.

She's going to jump!

~~~~

{Emma}

I wake up again, but not because of the monitor this time.

"Mom?" Shifting my upper body, I look to my right.

She's sleeping on the small couch. A light blanket covers her upper body. My father is no longer in the room. It's night time and the only light in the room is coming from the T.V hanging from the wall. There's an old baseball game playing with no sound.

I really need to use the restroom.

"Emma!"

I jump at the voice coming from outside my room.

"Get off of me! I swear to God Ken, if you don't get out of my way, I will force you!" The voice is livid.

Who is that?

My mother wakes with a jolt and rushes to my side. As if she is acting on pure instinct and this isn't the first time this is happening.

"Emma!" The voice is more insistent.

"I told you, she doesn't want to see you!" My father grunts. There's shuffling, nurses calling for security. "You stay away from her or I'll call the cops!"

The look in my mother's face is hard to place. I try to meet her eyes for answers but she looks back at the door and stands in front of me.

"What is going on?" I hang onto her shoulders.

There is no other sound coming from outside. Her labored breath is the only thing I hear.

"Mom, who was that?" Although I swear I have never heard that voice in my life, it sounds familiar. My mind races to try and match a face to it. Like watching a movie with an actress who played a small role in another movie. It wants to find an answer but I'm coming up blank. And it's not like I can Google it.

She finally turns and hugs me. "Don't worry about it, sweetheart. Do you need something? Are you hungry?"

"I need to use the restroom." There is nothing telling about her face. No worried look or angry lines anymore.

Almost as if nothing happened.

~~~~

{Camryn}

I know without a doubt that this image will haunt me on my death bed.

That is how life changing it feels.

Her face isn't frightened. Her hair whips around her head as the wind picks up. Her sun dress flows in the direction of the breeze. She regains her balance again, moving her arms out at her side. When she is satisfied, she puts her arms down, no longer looking for the balance she sought before. She smiles, a tiny smile as her body inches out, ready to plunge.

I throw my body in her direction, yelling something incoherent along the way. I try to pull her down but she latches on to a pole right next to her. She lets out a curse, completely angry at my interference. Her eyes fill with tears. Somebody yells in the distance causing others to scream in response. I pull her back again against my chest, sighing internally when her hands slip away from the pole. We roll around on the bridge until I land on top of her.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I am yelling at the top of my lungs.

A lady and a man run toward us in a panic. They're one of the first ones to reach us. They make a fuss around her but I hold my hand up to let them know we are okay.

"Should we call an ambulance?" The lady looks down at the girl beneath me.

I cover her out of view with my chest and shake my head.

"I will get her somewhere safe."

~~~~

{Emma}

I get discharged after two full weeks of waking up.

My parents never leave my side, having one of our maids bring them a change of clothing and meals on occasions. My body recovers enough. Whatever that means. My neck is still sore but nothing that isn't manageable. The bruises on my arms and my legs are a deep purple now. They're also not as swollen as before. The stitches on the edge of my bottom lip should dissolve in two weeks, according to the doctor. There is also a yellowish-green bruise under my right eye and a small part of my head had to be shaved off so they could operate next to my ear.

To say that I am shocked to see the stranger staring back at me in the mirror, is the understatement of the year. My dull dirty blonde hair, flat green eyes, and pale skin have looked the same since childhood. Yet, I didn't recognize myself that first time I saw myself in the bathroom mirror. The bruises, the cuts, the stiches. I'm surprised I'm still alive.

The doctor mentioned my memory will be hazy for the weeks to come but hopefully nothing too serious. There will be things and people and places that I won't remember. I remember important events. High school graduation, moving to a new city for college, graduating, moving to another new city to start my career...and then there are spotty memories. The building where I work, some colleagues' faces, my roommate's face. I can't remember her name. Why is that? The accident caused everything in my head to be jumbled.

That's right. I was in an accident. Walking on the street and I got hit while walking on the crosswalk. The guy is in jail for drunk driving. And now I have a minor case of amnesia. What's next? Will my long-lost sister show up claiming to be the rightful heir to my family's throne? I never imagined my life turning into a soap opera. And no, we are not royalty. My parents did inherit enough wealth to live comfortably but we are not filthy rich. Compared to others in our social circle, we have a modest way of life, although my mom likes to keep up appearances. That much I do remember.

"We have moved most of your things back to your old room." My mom announces. She looks back at me from the passenger side seat.

I look at her and give her a small smile.

My apartment. I almost forgot about that. I live with my friend from college. I remember us eating dinner, watching movies. What is her name? Why hasn't she called me?

"Where is my phone?" That should have most of my answers. A person's life can be told through the content in their phone. Old conversations, pictures, documents, social media. What can I find out about the last couple of months of my life? Who was I?

They trade a look. "You lost it in the accident. We will have to buy you a new one." She says, quietly.

I stare out the window at the cloudy sky. It's going to rain.

I sigh.

~~~~

{Camryn}

We sit across from each other outside an old ice cream shop.

She's stoic, no remorse in her eyes. Barely a hint of blush on her cheeks.

"I don't expect a thank you." I shift in my metal seat. "Or even an explanation"

Her eyes have a hint of annoyance in them. They're green. Too dark to be considered bright and too light to be considered jaded. What I wouldn't pay to see the things she has seen with those eyes. To catch a glimpse of the girl before the bridge. What does she like? What environment did she grow up in? What pushed her to the literal ledge?

"Do you at least have someone to talk to?" I want to smoke again but don't cave in. I picked a shitty week to work on health. Smoking less and less a day has been a bitch, but I've made good progress. I could consider this an unexpected event that requires me to smoke to think clearly but that is such a cop-out. It's all about baby steps.

"Yes, my therapist." Her gaze doesn't waver.

She's a beauty. Not conventionally what a stranger might consider stunning. But I am attracted to her and all of her emotions or lack thereof. But more than that, I feel like her protector. I just have to be careful and make sure I'm not getting ahead of myself.

I realize now that the white noise around her is calming for someone like me. I always have one thought after the other, if I'm not stressing about this thing then I am definitely stressing about the other. And yet, when I look at her, there is total silence. All traffic comes to a jarring stop. It's refreshing.

"Any family?" My chocolate ice cream melts under the setting sun.

She finally looks away and nods. "My parents."

Obviously, her source of guilt. She was planning on leaving them behind. Did she leave a note? Have they found it yet?

"A significant other?" I'm curious but I feel like I know the answer.

If there was someone else, they would have an inkling. I know I would. Just seeing her for the first time today, I felt like I knew some of her thoughts, feelings, and what she wanted to do about them. If she had anyone else in her life who truly cared about her, she would not have been on that bridge.

She shakes her head.

We sit in silence again. The pregnant pause gives her time to think.

"I would like to go home now." It sounds like a request.

"Okay, I can take you there." I stand and throw my untouched ice cream away. It was a dumb idea to come here. But I always feel better after having something sweet. I thought she would too. What does she enjoy? Probably nothing at this point.

"That's okay. I can catch a cab." She walks away and holds a hand out to hail a cab.

I take her hand and tug her further down the street.

"Let me take you somewhere first." We're only a few blocks away, so why not?

Her cold hand begins to warm in mine. I feel each bone against my fingers.

"How do I know you're not some serial killer taking me to your favorite murder alley?" She follows close behind.

I say the first thing that pops into my mind. "Then I'll just pick up where you left off."

I stop walking and look back at her to make sure I didn't offend her.

She doesn't look upset. In fact, I think there is some emotion in her eyes.

I hide my smile. She has a sense of humor and I'm an idiot.

We keep walking. I turn right after the light and see the end of the line to get into the gallery. It's after dinner, so it's longer than usual. People in the city love the night life. Coming to the gallery is on most tourist to-do list but locals love popping in as well. It is also Friday, which means it will be a busy night.

I pull her in front of me and we walk straight in.

People wave as I walk by and some take pictures of me but no one stops me. They see my attention is elsewhere at the moment.

I walk said elsewhere to the first room on the right.

I place her in front of a big canvas and place my hands on her shoulders.

"Wait here, I will be right back." My lips almost touch her ear.

She smells of the ocean. Slightly salty, a breath of fresh air, and a hint of sunscreen.

Katy is talking with a potential client and smiles when I catch her eye. Her red lips are a pleasing contrast against her black hair. Her tattoos draw attention to her arms and her neck. She's a walking art show herself.

Her tattoos are a big part of who she is. Katy is a fun, free-spirited, judgement-free, and by far the best assistant I have ever had. We've worked together for years and she the closest thing I have to a real friend. Seeing her right now brings me peace because I know just for one second, I'm not as alone as I think I am. There is one person here who genuinely cares if something happens to me.

"And here she is." She introduces me to an older gentleman dressed in all black. "What a lovely surprise."

Our chat isn't long and I pull her away once he makes a decision on the particular painting he wants.

"I didn't know you would be in today." She walks towards the back office and I follow her in.

"Last minute plan. I don't intend to stay long." I place my hands on my hips and take a deep breath. "I brought someone. She's different."

Her mouth slightly drops.

"Just make sure people stay away from us, if you can. She's very shy and won't like the attention." I can bet my life on that.

"Who is she?" I see the excitement in her dark eyes. It's not the first time I've brought a girl here. Just the first time I'm not boasting about my skills to impress her.

"Um." I don't even know her name. "I'll let you know all about it tomorrow." That's if I come in tomorrow. I can always babysit this stranger for another day if needed. I wouldn't mind in the least.