Why???

Authors Note: This story deals with a very serious issue. Some of my friends were worried about me after they read this story. If you know anyone who is considering suicide, tell someone who can help. To put it bluntly, DO NOT TRY TO KILL YOURSELF!! There are other ways out. OK. If you have been or are in this position, I know how you feel or felt, and it is nothing to kill yourself over. Trust me, it will end.

BSB doesn't know that I am writing this and I didn't get their permission, but millions of other people write stories too, so what does it matter?

I stood on the rail of the bridge, thinking, crying. I couldn't take it anymore. There was too much pressure in my life. Everyone expected me to be perfect. Perfect grades, perfect looks, perfect clothes, perfect everything. Everyone expected me to be perfect. Would a perfect girl jump? The water was choppy. It would kill me instantly. There's no other way out.

I'd planned it perfectly. I'd left the note on my mother's pillow after she'd left for a party at her job. By the time she found it, I'd be at the bottom of the river. I wish there was another way out.

"This is it," I said, before jumping down onto the other side of the rail, which was only about an inch wide.

"Don't jump." a deep male voice said. I looked back to see some guy watching me.

"Go away! Leave me alone." I yelled.

"Just don't jump. It's not worth it." he said. "Come back over the rail and I'll drive you home."

"No! Go away!" I yelled.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No! Get the hell away from me!"

He took a few steps closer to me, so he was standing against the rail right behind me. "Why are you going to jump?" he asked.

"Why do you care?"

"Cause I'm a very caring guy. Now why are you going to jump?"

"No one cares about what I think. I have too live up to their expectations, It's too much." I said, tears streaming down my face.

"You're gonna end your life cause of that?!? Thats stupid. Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"No, why?"

"Your parents will be upset."

"My dad's dead, my mom, she'll be upset I guess, but now she gets to find out what its like to not get her way."

"Don't jump."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"So I can get to know you better."

"Well, I... I.. I can't get back over. I'll fall. I have to jump."

"NO you DON'T! Turn around. Give me your hand." I slowly pivoted on one foot thanking God that I wasn't wearing a dress like Rose from Titanic. (AN: I know, doesn't this remind you of that movie? Don't worry, It's not like this through the whole story. Otherwise it wouldn't be worth reading.) "Good, now climb over the rail."

"You're crazy!"

"No I'm not. Climb over."I slowly climbed up the bars and the guy put his hands on my waist and lifted me over. Then he asked, "Are you ok?"

"I guess. I gotta get home." I started walking down the street, and the guy stopped me.

"I'll drive you."

"OK."

We got in his Camaro and he drove me home. I ran inside and looked at the clock. 12:00. Midnight. April 1st, 1999. The Letter!! I ran up to my mom's room and found her sitting there crying. "Um... April Fools?"

"Oh my God. Honey, that was NOT funny."

"I'm sorry, really."

"...Peppermint, and uh cellophane, um and uh-" I studdered.

"Dont say 'uh' or 'um'. I know you learned how to use sense memories. Use emotion! Try again." The director, Shelby, yelled.

"I'm trying, Shelby, but I cant get the list of stuff word for word! Its too hard! Forget word for word? Ok. From the begining? Ok. And there were pieces of paper and Juicy Fruit gum and Spearmint Life Savers and peppermint, and crumpled bits of cellophane and tobacco and paperclips and pennys and nickles and dimes, chewing gum wrappers and movieticket stubs, and his grey suede gloves that he wore in the wintertime." I looked up at Shelby hopefully.

"Much better, Katie, There was much more emotion."

"Thanx, Shelby."

I was at play practice for some play or another. I did alot of plays. The therapist told me to get into activities that were fun and made me feel good. This wasn't exactly that, but when I was onstage, I wasn't being me and I liked that I didn't have to be me.

I was still grounded from the "joke" in April, but my mom let me out because the psychiatrist said it would be good for me. The guy who talked me out of jumping turned out to be world famous Backstreet Boy, Nick Carter. We were currently going out. We I hardly ever saw him though.

*~* 9 months later, 11:30 PM *~*

(AN: No, Katie is not pregnant or anywhere near it.)

I went to see Nick at his hotel since he just came back into town, and I got on the elevator. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. Nick's floor. The doors opened and I saw Nick pressed against the wall, a blonde chick kissing him.

"Nick, you are such a bastard!!!" I screamed and turned to run down the stairs. Nick shoved the girl to the floor and ran after me.

"Katie! Katie, stop! I've never seen that girl in my life! She's a fan! She attacked me! It was rape!"

I got to the bridge from a year before. "Goodbye Nick" I threw myself over the rail into the river. The water was low. It should have killed me instantly. Nick ran down and swam in after me.

*~* The Hospital *~*

I was still alive, but in a lot of pain. I kept drifting in and out of consiousness (did I spell that wrong?). "God, Katie. I told you she was just a fan. Why did you jump? God dammit why!"

My eyes fluttered open. "It hurts. Goodbye Nick." I whispered.

"No, don't go. No, keep looking at me. Open your eyes. C'mon Katie, don't leave me now. I need you. Stay with me Katie. I really love you. I can't loose you."

My eyes fluttered shut and a long beep came from the heart monitor. Doctors came rushing in. After a minute, one of them said, "Time of death 12:01 AM."

Nick screamed, "No! Why? Come back! Why?"

*~*The Graveyard*~*

My grave stone read:

I was only 19. It was considered heart failior, not suicide, because I died in the hospital. Only one year after Nick saved me.

Nick stood at the grave, tears threatening to fall. He dropped a single yellow rose, my favorite, onto the grave. He knew it was suicide. So did my mother. Just before he turned to walk away, to the waiting tour bus, he said, "Why?"

e-mail the author at iluvnickcarter13@hotmail.com

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