"Sera. Don't do it."

My conscious was repeating those words over and over. My feet remained firm-- half of it on the iron of the bridge, the other half hitting the cold air underneath it. My hair hit my face, as if it were being whipped torturously. Why am I here? In the middle of nowhere, atop an abandoned bridge? 

My conscious stopped repeating the words. It didn't take two seconds for it to respond with an answer to my current state of being.

"You know you're here because of him."