Tampa Bay's skies were almost black with the new storm rolling in. The rain poured down in thick sheets, making it hard for even the sharpest to see. A car went speeding down the road at an alarming rate, the driver unaware of anything but how upset he was. He drove blindly, unable to see with both the rain and his constant tears.
His blue eyes, once bright and happy, were now grey and sad. His blonde hair, which he normally spiked, was flat and discolored. But none of this compared to his look. He looked desperate and hopeless, to the point of no return. His complexion was almost white, except for his red lips, he'd bitten them so much that they were bleeding. He didn't care. All he wanted was an end. A solitude, a happiness, anything but this miserable sorrow and hopelessness he'd been feeling for the past few weeks.
Oh sure, it hadn't been as bad at first. But he had had so much time to himself, so much time to wallow in self pity and despair. Soon, he found a hate for everyone around him. They were his problems. Everything and everybody, was a problem. And in reality, they loved him. But he was too blind to see it. Every little fight, even a simple sentence, and he took it to heart. Crying because somebody had made a small joke about him. He was fragile, maybe even broken.
"Why can't she just love me for me?" He asked himself, coughing as he swallowed tears.
He wanted his mother to love him for him. Not money, or girls, or meaningless things. He wanted his mother back. He wanted his brother to listen to him, to learn from his older brother's mistakes. To undo the wrong and get on the right track. He wanted his friends to see that he was a human being, and had feelings. And he wanted people to see beyond the "fat", and to the real him. Down to his inner core, where he wasn't just some blonde pop star who sang sugar songs.
He swerved from side to side, unable to see because of the rain and his tears. The cars honked at him, their drivers already worried about the rain, not needing to deal with a crazy man behind the wheel. He honked back, upset and mad all at once. He didn't care if he hit anyone, he didn't care one bit. This was the end, so why should anything matter?
Seeing that he was almost to the end of the bridge, he stepped on the gas and yanked the car to the shoulder. He didn't bother to turn it off, knowing that someone else would do it evantually. He grabbed a crumpled note from his pocket and threw it in the car, then walked to the edge. He looked down and a twinge of fear ran through him. He shook his head, as if clearing the fear and telling himself he'd be ok.
But who's really okay when they're about to jump off of a bridge?
Whatever he felt or thought, he disregarded it. Because a few moments later he found himself climbing onto the railing, staring at the water with an evil smile on his face. He took a deep breath and swallowed hard. This was finally it. Just as he was about to jump, a small voice interrupted him.
"No! Don't jump!"
He looked behind himself to find a small girl standing there. Her bright blue eyes glimmered to him, shining brightly. Her dark blonde hair was soaked from the pouring rain, as well as her clothes. And though she was trembling from the cold, she seemed alright. Well, except for the fact that she was worried sick about a man she didn't know.
"Leave me alone!" He screamed at her, almost slipping in his rage.
"Why are you doing this? What's wrong?" She asked, stepping closer.
"Nothing you could fix." He replied, then softer, "Nothing anyone could fix."
"It can't be that bad. Why don't you just climb back down and we'll go talk about it." She suggested, scared stiff because she'd never been in a situation like this. She couldn't let him just jump, but then again, he wasn't really willing to come back down either.
"I'm just supposed to come back down and talk to you, and then everything will be peachy? Give me a fucking break, how old are you anyways? Six?" He retaliated, returning his gaze from her back to the water.
"I'm seventeen. And no, everything won't be peachy. But what does jumping do to make things better? It's just admitting defeat, it's just giving up. You can't give up on yourself."
He sighed, realising that maybe she did have a point. But what if he did go talk to her, and everything just went back down the tubes? What if everything went wrong again and she wasn't there to convince him with some stupid psalm she'd made up?
"What if everything doesn't get better? What if it all gets worse again?" He asked timidly.
"Then you can talk to me, and we can work it out together. How does that sound?" She responded.
He nodded in agreement, looking down at the water one more time before beginning to realise that he didn't like heights. Just as he was about to climb back down, his foot slipped, and he screamed.
His hands gripped for something, anything, to stop his fall. He couldn't die now, that would just prove that he had the worst luck ever. Just as he was about to lose all hope, a hand grabbed his. A tiny hand, but it was better to have something rather than nothing.
He held on tightly, as she tried to pull him back up. He weighed twice as much as her, if not more, but somehow she managed to pull him up. The body can do amazing things when it's mind over matter. Through both of their pain, they managed to get him up and over the railing, back to safety.
He was so scared from the whole experience, so traumatised and so thankful. That he began to sob into her arms, shaking and trembling, just like she was. She murmured things into his ears, telling him that it'd all be okay. That he wasn't alone. Things were going to get better.
And somehow, he understood, and stopped crying. He looked up at her, wanting to smile because he realised that he was laying on the road in her arms, drenched with the rain. But he didn't, he wasn't ready to smile yet. Instead, he asked for her name.
"Angel." She replied, a small smile on her face. He didn't smile, but she could tell that he was amused by her name.
As they laid there on the road, he began to get uncomfortable. Several minutes later, he stood up. Stretching and trying to wring his clothes free of all of the water. She followed suit, trying to wring her own dirty clothes free of the water. He looked down at her, unable to think of how to thank her. Wondering if thanking her was even the right way to put it. She had, afterall, saved him from killing himself.
Slowly, he made his way back to his car, reaching in to take the keys out. He was unfazed by the soaked leather, not caring that the expensive car was now ruined. He could care less about material things at that point, some things, or people, were more important now. He looked behind himself and saw her standing there. She smiled at him.
"What's your name?"
"I'm Nick Carter." He responded, not caring that she could be some rabid fan who could go mad on him at any second.
She didn't react to the name at all, just smiled. Her arms stretched out, indicating she wanted to hug him. And he obliged, hugging her tightly. Then he turned back to the car.
"We can go to my house, it's warm and dry there. I've got some of my sister's clothes that would fit you. What do you say?" He asked.
But he heard no answer.
When he turned around, she was gone. His heart raced with fear, where had she gone? He looked to the right and to the left, he even went back to the railing to look at the water. But there were no signs of her. He sighed, running a shaky hand through his hair, then sat down in the wet car.
And it was then that he thought of her name. Angel. Had she really been an angel? Did she really just come down from heaven to save him and leave? He smiled softly, thinking to himself that he'd gone crazy.
Slowly, he put the key back into the car and shut the
door. Looking around the place once more time, he
turned the key and gunned the engine. Then he smiled
once more, maybe he wasn't so broken after all.
