Chapter 1

Smoke coiled from Max Wagner’s mouth, wrapping around his head like a noose tightening itself.

These things could kill you.

Too bad they won’t get the chance.

A biting wind hit his face, but the numb feeling in his body kept him from noticing it. The shadowy waters under him rushed away from the sleepy town that hadn’t made a sound in a long time, save, of course, the ivy covered clock tower that rang hourly. The water called to him, shouting his name, confirming the pitch black thoughts of his mind.

It’s time.

The tall and ivy covered clock tower a few blocks over began to ring.

Midnight.

This middle of nowhere town created the perfect spot.

This is it.

He was finally going to do it. He had no reason left not to. What is the point anyway? You wake up, eat breakfast, move throughout your day thinking you’re making an impact, and then go home to bed only to start the never ending process over again the next day. Life is mundane and boring.

I refuse to continue this cycle.

The very small number of his father’s sermons that he had actually listened to told him he was going to hell anyway.

Might as well start the torture now.

He stood slowly and whipped the dirt from his pants. Taking one last drag, he glanced over his shoulder to the town behind him.

I hope you never find my body.

While it would be the most excitement this town would see in years, they didn’t need it.

Stay innocent as long as you can.

He flicked his cigarette to the ground. His poked his toes over the edge of the bridge. For the first time in ages he felt a small bit of doubt. The waters below churned violently, much like his stomach. He gasped for air in slight panic. Was this really the way he wanted to go? Was he ready for everything to be over? There was no coming back from this. His mother proved that for him. His eyes darkened at the thought of his mother. The thought rebuilding his confidence. He closed his eyes.

Here goes nothing.

Goodbye world that hates me.

Farewell people that don’t care.

Ciao-

“Drowning isn’t the best way to die.” His head snapped toward the voice that interrupted him. He felt his jaw slacken and his eyes widen. “It’s not peaceful. At all. Your lungs are slowly filling with water, your breath is barely slipping away, and you can feel all of it. Maybe you’ll pass out, if you’re lucky. If you’re not, you’ll feel nothing but pain and cold until you do.”

No more than fifteen feet away stood a red head. She looked about the same age as him. But his mind malfunctioned as it tried to process her. She wore a sleeve-less, mint green dress. It fell below her knees and the color complemented her hair. His eyes trailed lower where he found, to his astonishment, that she wore an out of place pair of converse. She had to be cold. He wore a jacket and even he felt the cold slightly through the numbness. And why the formal dress? Had she come from a date?

His mind was snapped from its musings when she stepped closer. He inched away from her and closer to the edge of his bridge. She stiffened slightly and stopped approaching. “How do you know that?” His voice sounded a little gruffer than he thought it would be.

Smoking is making you sound like you’ve got a frog crammed down your throat.

Gotta quit those things.

“Research paper. I did a study on the most painless way to die. Surveys say shooting yourself in the head or heart is quicker. And besides,” she shrugged, “‘When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they will not overflow you.’” He cocked his brow. The redhead smiled. “Isaiah 43:2.”

He shook his head. Though he couldn’t say whether it was in befuddlement, amusement, or denial. She wanted to stop him from jumping, yet she then gave him better options?

What is wrong with this girl?

“I don’t have a gun.”

She stepped closer to him again. Her steps cautious, almost as if she approached a wounded animal. His innermost thoughts growled at him.

You ARE a wounded animal.

“I didn’t say I want you to kill yourself. I’m merely letting you know that drowning is not all it’s cracked up to be.”

“You going to save me?” He didn’t know if he wanted her to or not. That’s what it all came down to, wasn’t it? He didn’t know. He never knew. He didn’t know why he was standing on that bridge. He didn’t know why he smoked. He didn’t know why his father hated him. He. Didn’t. Know.

“Is it ok if I tried?” She was only a foot away now. He could surprise her and jump anyway, but that would probably scar her for life. Even though he wasn’t sure if he wanted her help, he knew for certain he didn’t want her hurt. He nodded grudgingly.

It can’t hurt to see how she tries.

Though she already pulled verses on you.

She’ll probably take the ‘suicide is murder and that’s a sin’ approach.

Just what you needed.

Another reminder about how much God hates you.

“You want to sit down? This looks like a comfy spot.”

“It’s not.” He would know. He’d been there a while.

She shrugged her shoulders and sat anyway. “Well, I would rather sit here- where all you can do to kill yourself is jump- than in a house where there are knives, guns, or pills. I could jump after you, potentially saving your life... Although, I can’t swim, so you’d have to save me.”

He gave her a perplexed look. “You can’t swim?”

She smiled and shook her head, her red curls falling around her face like curtains. “No. I’ve never had the opportunity to learn.” She looked up at him and patted the ground next to her. “Come on, sit. Tell me about yourself.”

He obliged. “You mean tell you why I want to kill myself.”

“No. I mean tell me about you. What’s your favorite color?”

“How is that relevant?”

“Please just answer the question. It’s not that hard. What is your favorite color?”

“That’s deflecting my attention, and it’s not working.”

She put her chin on her shoulder and raised her eyebrows. “Are you sure?”

He released a dry chuckle. “Fine. My favorite color is black.”

She smiled brightly. “Thank you answering. My favorite color is blue. And I like green as well, but I mostly like blue. What do you like to eat?”

“Pizza. Preferably pepperoni or plain cheese. And I don’t like marinara sauce, so whatever the house special white sauce is.”

This girl was confusing him more and more; to the point he wasn’t thinking about his impending death. Dang she’s good. It dawned on him as he watched her turn to look over the water that she hadn’t introduced herself. She’d popped out of nowhere and he hadn’t even thought to ask her for her name. “Do you have a name, princess?”

She chuckled, looking over her dress. “I suppose I am a tad overdressed for a midnight stroll. In my defense though, I just came from a party.” She smiled at him, sticking out her hand for him to shake. “Ashley. And your name is…?”

“Max. Max Wagner.” He grasped her hand. Her fingers were tiny compared to his. They felt fragile, like brittle glass. Yet she held an unusual strength in her grip.

She smiled, her pearly white teeth shining. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Max Wagner.”

“Why are you here?”

“To save you, of course. Isn’t it obvious?”

“But how did you know I was here?”

“My Father told me where to find you. He said you needed help, and that I was the perfect person to help you. So here I am. Your personal therapist and guardian angel. Not a literal angel, they’re all guys. But still, I feel the reference fits. Quite apropos, wouldn’t you agree?”

Max stared at her. “Why aren’t you feeding me some spiel about how killing myself is wrong?”

“Because you already know that in your heart of hearts.” Sincerity bled through her voice and shone bright in her eyes. “Maybe you haven’t accepted it, but you know it’s true. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be hesitating right now.”

“But what if I don’t want to scare you? What if that’s the only reason I haven’t jumped yet?” He hated the way his voice warbled. It made him sound weak. Weakness is for cowards.

That’s why you’re killing yourself.

She smiled softly. “Then good.” Max wanted to wipe the sympathy off her face. Give her a reason to hate him enough to want him dead. She should hate him. “Do you have a place to stay the night?”

He shook his head slightly and looked down. The waters flowing below were still calling to him, but they were no longer shouting. The sounds had calmed to a whisper. His thoughts, while still dark, had lightened to a charcoal grey. “I hadn’t exactly planned on needing a place to stay.”

She beamed her 1000-watt smile at him. “That is alright. I’ve got a place, and trust me there is plenty of room for an extra body.”

She stood. Max followed, but glanced back to the river.

It will still be there tomorrow.

If that was still what he wanted. This unusual girl, who had shown up out of nowhere, seemed to have captured his thoughts without even trying. Maybe he would live for her.

He was pulled from his pondering by a hand, slender and pale, appearing in front of his face. Attached to the hand was a waiting face. And it was a patient face. She would wait forever if that was what it took to gain his trust. He could see it written plainly all over her face. He decided to take the leap. It was a different leap then the one he had planned to take tonight. This leap was one of faith, not of despair.