Frozen River

I looked over the edge of the bridge, one hand clinging to the icy, frozen metal. Just beneath my tiny ledge, the angry water of the river churned beneath me, a mixture of sweet, inky black and cold, cruel white. The wind howled furiously past me, pushing me to jump over the edge and get it over with.1

But I didn’t let go of the bridge and let myself go tumbling into the frozen, raging waters just yet. For the umpteenth time, I thought about why I was doing this. I knew the answer, but the question was always running through my head, a tired runner in a marathon of thoughts. 2

They were the ones that had done this to me. My family and the kids at school had forced me to this point. They’d never cared about me, never will. I doubted that they would even notice I was gone. My parents had never paid any attention to me. My father had promised so many times that he would come to my poetry readings and art shows, but he never had. My mother was the same as him. They’d be happier when I was gone. The kids at school might notice I was missing. I pity the kid that becomes my replacement in their eyes. Of course I’d be replaceable to them. Why wouldn’t I be? I was just a target of their ridicule, they could find another.3

The wind howled again, angry at my delay. It tugged at the heavy material of my dress, impatient for my demise just like the others. My long, bright orange hair whipped about my face, the only splotch of color on my person, everything else was black or white, like the river below me. My hair flew over my face, covering my eyes, like a prisoner being blindfolded before an execution. 4

Complying with the anxious winds’ desires, I released my hold on the bridge. I leaned forward and let my body topple over my little cement ledge.5

The air rushed past me as I fell, biting the exposed flesh of my face with its frozen teeth. It was not a long journey down to the white rapids of the black river. I gasped as the water came up to meet me, knocking my breath away. Cold, dirty water filled my mouth and my lungs. I gulped it down eagerly, unable to wait for the afterlife to come. My long, heavy, black dress weighed me down and dragged me deeper into the water. 6

Despite the density of my dress, the rapids pushed and pulled me through them, knocking me painfully against the rocks that were large enough to push their way to the surface. I endured it happily, as I knew it would only quicken my death.7

Soon the rapids ended, leaving me to be pushed along in the current. My lungs burned, hungry for the oxygen that they would not receive. It would only be a few minutes longer now. The temperature kept me from feeling most of the injuries I’d received from the rapids. 8

Though, it was irreversible by now, the hated thoughts of why I was doing this continued to plague my dying mind. It hadn’t been this bad had it? My parents had come to a few of my shows and readings. It wasn’t their fault that they were busy. And my friends, how could I forget them? What would they think? While the other students were cruel, they’d always stayed by me. How could I do this to them? 9

I was filled with disgust for myself. How could I do this to the people that cared about me? I tried to swim to the surface, but couldn’t. My dress was too heavy, and my limbs were weak from the cold and the rocks. I struggled to reach the surface, to have some chance of reversing this horrible decision. 10

My vision began to darken, and I became more desperate. My hands raked through the water as best they could, trying to claw their way back to the surface. I failed, though, and everything became dark and I was unable to move. Feeling left my body, and I no longer felt connected to it. It was still dark, but I knew I’d left my body, that I was dead.11

I hadn’t been able to resurface, and now they would find only my dead, black and white body. My family and friends they’d be left with only a letter to tell them why little, redheaded Laura Kelly had killed herself. And the sad thing is I don’t even think it was a good reason anymore.12