What Has She Done?

Tears were rolling down the girl's cheeks as she slammed the wooden blue door behind her, feeling a tiny bit of wood splinter and fall onto her bare neck. She hugged her jacket around her, not caring about the passing strangers that stared at her face, her smudged mascara and bleeding wrists, and ripped flesh. No one would care anyway. The busy street was full of life, cars were everywhere, yelling at her for jumping out into the middle of the road, whilst she stood staring at them, not taking in anything. More tears ran down her face as she remembered the look on her family's face when she had told them. Soon they'd come out after her, try and stop her, send her to the mental hospital they thought she belonged in. She was feeling so weak from the blood loss, and slowly tramped away through the road, reaching the path that lead to teh river. She began running frantically at the familiar voice behind her, tripping over constantly. She soon came to the bridge, the one where she'd spent most of her time the last few montsh thinking her life over. She reached the bridge quickly, while her chaser was far behind. She stared a moment, mesmorized, into the blue murky depths of the water, before she lifted herself up over the railing, balancing heavily on the tiny sidewall. 1

"No! Please! Don-!" A shocked and crying person cried out, but their voice trailed away the moment the girl lost her footing by the bridge, lost her voice, lost her will to live. She plunged down through the air like a hot knife through butter, and felt the cold of the water slap at her, for a second wishing she had never done it, wishing that she'd listened to her friends when they said that jumping off bridges as high as this could kill you. She wanted to die, but she didn't. She just wanted to stop feeling pain. White flashed before her eyes, the churning water, filling her lungs and slicing her throat. Leg's tangled in weed, gasping for breath, but only recieving posioned polluted water. Cry's from above the water sounded, then another splash from nearby, someone jumping in. Someone grabbing her hand, then a horrible screeching sound in her ears as her eyes closed, as she relived the worst moments of her life, the ones that had made her come to this desicion. The screeching noise still carried, on, even when the past stopped running through her mind and she stopped moving, her heart stopped beating. But she was still there, watching them grab hold of her body, but she was outside herself, not feeling their cold touch. Tears ran down their cheeks like blood had once run down her own arms. They shouted and screamed and cried and pulled her lifeless body out of the hell depths. She stared a moment at the one she loved, the one she did this for, then stared back down from the sky which she was rising into. Stared at her own, dead body.2