This scenario was inspired by a prompt given from one of our authors to the other - enjoy!

 

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            There’s a reason why I always come back here. It’s because back then, life was organized. Life was near perfect. I didn’t have to make my own plans just in order to see them fail. I just had to follow rules, obey the system if you will, and go with the flow. Now… the rules have become more. They have multiplied to the point where I don’t even know how many rules there are anymore. So whenever I feel lost, I come here. And somehow more often than not, I find him there too. I’m not sure who he is, I just know that he’s male, tall, and probably around my age. No idea as to why he decided on this rooftop to be “his spot”, since during all my school life I have never seen him even once. And – someone as tall as that should be noticeable, even within the vast sea of black-haired people wearing the same uniforms day in and day out. But I never saw him. Even now, I barely know what his face looks like. Taking a few more deep breaths, I walk down the stairs, merging back into the masses – just where I belong.

 

            It didn’t take as long as usual for me to return to the rooftop. This week has been an especially ed up one, so I feel the need to take a deep breath up there even stronger than usual. I inhale slowly, until my chest feels like it’s about to burst, then I let it all out in a scream.

            “.” An overwhelming silence is what follows and suddenly, something warm finding its way down my cheek, dripping onto the concrete floor next to my shoe. That’s when I flinch, hearing another person shout the exact same word a few steps behind me. When he’s done, I turn around and meet a pair of tired brown eyes. I notice a piercing on his nose twinkle at me as it reflects the sunlight, staring at it for a few seconds.

            “This really helped…” he says. “But now I’m tired…” He sits down right where he is, and leans back until his upper body lies straight on the floor, while his legs are still crossed.

            “I’m… glad to hear that?” I answer, a little perplexed. Okay, a little is an understatement, I’m as confused as one can get and the guy on the floor in front of me isn’t really doing anything to help that feeling go away.

            “You come here often too, right?” I nod at his question. “But you’re not a student anymore” he assumes.

            “I kind of am… just not in high school.”

            “College?”

            “Yeah.” Curiosity strikes me. “And you?”

            “Me? In college? Nah.” He stretches his arms and takes his time to let out a long, soundfilled yawn. “As if I was any good for that…” I notice the bitterness in his eyes. A certain feeling arises within me, stressing me to do something.

            “I’m sure you’re good enough. Someone your age should definitely go to college. Maybe have a part-time job.”

            “So we’re assuming each other’s ages now?” he cheekily throws back, though his expression stays bored.

            “…” I’m not sure what to say next. This answer isn’t something I expected. I expected him to agree, ask me what I studied, maybe say he wanted to come along someday… I take a closer look at his face. Does he look like the kind of person who would do that? – No.

            “Look, I just said something because I thought maybe talking to you would… make my day, you know? But it’s really not helping.” He sits up. “Maybe we should both shut up. Go back to how it was up until now.” My mind is blank. As thoughts continue to flow after a few moments of silence, they start racing soon.

            “Then how about you go sit over there” I point at his usual spot, “since that’s how things were up until now.” He looks up at me. It isn’t an angry expression I find on his face – that I know. But I really can’t read any further into it. He snorts and looks away, squinting against the sun that is slowly getting ready to disappear behind the buildings shaping the horizon.

 

            “I hate myself.” I walk up the stairs, one step after the other. “I ing hate myself.” Nothing else comes out of the emotional turmoil in my chest. My brain doesn’t seem to process the feelings any further than that. But who needs feelings anyway? “I ing hate myself and this world and everything and-“ I stop. In front of my eyes, a chest covered in grey fabric appears. I look up to meet his stare.

            “You again” he says and looks behind me, then back into my face. “Could you maybe… move aside a little? So I can get down.” Not having realized that I blocked the way, I mumble an apology and step to the side, letting him pass me by. I don’t understand him. I really don’t get this person, and if that wasn’t already enough, it now adds to the frustration already pent up in my guts.

            Now that I’ve stopped, I don’t know if I should really go up there or not. I don’t know if I should go back down either. No… I absolutely cannot go back. Not after everything I’ve done. Not after letting everyone down. I can’t go back there and look my professor in the eyes as he tells me how badly I failed, how disappointed he is in me. I can’t go back there and tell my parents what a miserable child they have. I absolutely cannot go back there and be forced to look myself in the mirror ever again. Somehow my legs give out. I crouch down, sitting on the cold metal stairs. Covering my face with my hands, I start crying. I shake uncontrollably, can’t keep my voice from revealing my misery. I just sit there and… cry, for however long. Until I’m empty. Until I can’t feel a single thing. By then it has become night and I get up. Mechanically setting one foot before the other, I return to the masses, diving head first back into the world of my doom – the world I’m not good enough for.

 

            After almost two weeks, I find myself up here again, this time alone. It’s been a while since I last stood at that fence and took in the scenery that lays itself out before me. The buildings haven’t changed at all – they seem to never do, even though within them something is always moving. The city never sleeps, they say. I’m beginning to understand why. My teachers, giving lessons even when I’m not there. My parents, working hard and making sure they can get food on the table, even when I’m asleep at night. My colleagues, going out or studying even when I’m not with them. Just because I have stopped moving, doesn’t mean that they will. I loosen my grip on the fence behind me and look down onto the street where my feet already reach over the edge a bit. I take a deep breath. Somehow, I’m completely calm in this moment. How I wish I could’ve felt like that at all times. Doubts start running through my head, but I push them aside. No. If I don’t do it now, I will just keep on suffering.

            “Hey!” I jolt, my hands reaching for the fence to hold on to. The familiar voice seems to be coming closer. “You’re not gonna jump, are you?”

            “It’s none of your business!” I yell back without looking over my shoulder, fearing that seeing his expression might make me change my mind. I know I have only a few seconds to go through with it now, before he reaches me, potentially holding me back. But my petrified self just stands there, unable to do anything as I feel all my strength being drained from me. I notice something warm on my fingers, where they hold onto the wired strands. A touch.

            “At least take me with you if you’re gonna do it…” I can hear him silently say. Where my head touches the fence, he leans against it too. It seems as if he was looking for chances to touch me, even with the wires between us. The one thing I did not want slowly builds up and then crashes down on me all at once. Feelings. I don’t know how to handle them, I never did. I was always more of a facts-and-numbers type of person. So I just stand there and cry. Until he speaks up.

            “Turn around” he demands. Almost as if I was a marionette, I do as he says, careful not to accidentally fall. I stare at his chest. I notice that this time, he’s wearing a dark blue shirt. Then I allow my eyes to wander up, meeting his. They look different today.

            “What’s your name?” he asks. Without thinking, I slowly answer. “That suits you…” he whispers, repeating it. Somehow when he says it, it has an entirely different ring to it than when someone else does. Maybe it’s because of the sudden warmth in his voice. “Come back to this side” he pleads. “I will help you.”

            “I-“ My voice fails me. It’s almost as if I had swallowed the words, but instead I now have to cough up the spit that got stuck in the wrong tube. As if he had a chance to hold me should I fall, he puts his hands back on mine.

            “Come on. You can do it.” The look in his eyes seems as if he wished to make my body move the way he wants to – so he could “save” me. But… I’m just trying to save myself by not returning. That’s right – I swore to myself I would never return.

            “I can’t…” I force out the words. “I have to do this…” He repeats my name, as if that would change anything. As he speaks, I shut out the warmth he triggers to arise and overwhelm me in my chest.

            “If you died today, how would you be remembered?” I stare at him. I am thinking hard on how to answer that question, but… somehow there is no satisfying answer.

            “…as the one who failed” I say. “The one who deserved it. The one who’s better off dead anyway because she can’t even meet people’s expectations. The one who never had any friends. The one who devoted herself to studying, but she couldn’t even do that. The one who-“ He interrupts me.

            “Is that all you lived for so far? Pleasing others?”

            “I…! I didn’t just…” I try to protest, even though deep inside of me something tells me he’s right.

            “Come back.” I shake my head strongly.

            “I can’t…”

            “I’ll miss you…”

            “How so? You weren’t exactly nice to me up until now…” I counter.

            “But even so, I will miss coming here and not seeing you.”

            “Shut up!” I scream at him, as if I wanted him to go away and just let me die already, but somehow my grip around the fence gets stronger, and my whole body seems to be drawn to the inside more than the side I’m currently standing on. But then again… that feeling isn’t exactly an unfamiliar one. Haven’t I always wanted to be right where I wasn’t? Haven’t I always wanted to be outside on the playground with the other children, instead of having to study at home with my tutor? Haven’t I always wanted to rebel instead of showing the teachers my best put on smile? What’s keeping me from changing that now? What’s keeping me from going to that playground now? From escaping my own narrow four walls? The tears well up again. I wish to scream out my inner never-ending monologue, if only I knew how.

            “Come here. You can do it” his voice invades my thoughts again. “I know you can. I believe in you.”

            “STOP!” I yell. Those words… I can’t accept them. How much I have always wished to hear them. Wished for them to be directed at me. And how much I have always despised them because I was never the one they were gifted to. He lets go of my hand, his touch leaving my skin almost feels like the torture my parents have brought upon me by raising me to be their perfect little girl. I press my whole body against the fence without even thinking about it. I watch him take out a pocket knife and fear strikes me for a moment, until I see what he’s planning to do. He starts cutting apart the wires right next to me, pulling on them to create a way through and connect the outside with the inside world. To connect my world with his. When the hole is wide enough, he holds out his hand. Without thinking, I take it, feeling his warm, soft skin against my palm and my fingertips. His grip is strong and he watches as I hesitantly take one step after the other, until I stand right in front of it. There is no more obstacle, except for my own fears. As I debate whether to go back or not, all the bad things hit me, one by one. All my responsibilities I have stripped myself off mere minutes ago. And all the scolding, all the torment from my parents’ voices in my head because I keep failing my exams, and not only those. Again, he calls out my name and tears me out of those thoughts. I take a step towards him. Another one. And when I pass the fence with the third, I feel his free hand behind my back, pulling my body closer, into an embrace. It takes me a few seconds to register what just happened. I start crying again.

            “I knew you could make it” he says as his hand slowly glides from the top of my head over my hair and down to my shoulders. “You did well.”