The wind was swift that day. The waves rolled over the black rocks from her view over the ledge of the brick bridge. She could feel the soft plants had curled and molded their furry fingers over the old brick where she leaned. The waves were angry that day as she starred at them. It was almost like her roaring heart crashing and clawing against the insides or her mind trying to escape from her past but that wasn’t possible. You could never, no matter how hard you tried escape from your past.
Now thousands of miles away from her turbulent past she stood her heart in painful turmoil and life contemplated before her eyes. Getting away at that time seemed like heaven.
In the end, heaven was hell. It has just changed latitudes.
“It’ll all be over soon.” She whispered and her words carried off in the quick wind as it whipped her red hair around. She was really a beautiful girl with a head of long, straight auburn hair and green pale eyes that didn’t compare to the pain she experienced. Her fingers were quick when she twirled the flower between her fingers and her nails reflected the sharp hot sun that day as it beamed down against her bare skin.
She knew she was beautiful with light brown freckles dotting her French, narrow nose but inside, she was ugly, torn, tattooed, and tainted. Love was tragic and hate. Hate was death and pain. In her childhood, “love” was all she ever received.
She let the wilted dandelion drop from her fingers and it danced down against the beach. Seconds later it was swallowed by the raging waters.
She lifted on leg up over the ledge of the bridge and sat there, two legs on both sides. She needed a cigarette but those things were so expensive these days that it seemed if you weren’t a millionaire you could have a case. Or maybe it was the fact that she was a fresh college drop-out about to get evicted from her crappy apartment and asking from her parents would mean communicating to them. Her father was a police officer and bound to track her down if she made one phone call. So she lived her life in fear and always glancing over her shoulder. Always second glancing the police and never trusting anyone.
She swung the second leg over the ledge and looked down. She could feel herself falling as the wind rushed into her nose and through her body. She closed her eyes just as the ground came close and the rocks glared up at her menacingly. She opened her eyes and saw the ground. She didn’t let the tears stop when they started. She tried not to imagine the news. No one would believe her rape accusations against her father and mother until her autopsy could prove otherwise. The truth would be found in death and right now, death seemed the only life she could look forward to.
A gust of wind felt like a human push and she slipped from the ledge. Her fingers barely caught on the edge and her scream was terrific and heart stopping. Her heart raced. She didn’t want to die, oh God she didn’t want to die. Not like this. Oh not like this. Everything was so clear and pictures of her life flashed before her. She felt to hands latch on to her arms what seemed like hours later and they struggled to pull her over the ledge. She shook viciously and panted crying like a pitiful baby.
“I don’t want to die.” She mumbled shaking her head, “I don’t want to die.” She said and she felt arms wrap around her body.
“Shhh… don’t cry. I’m going to call the police.” He said and she broke the hug and looked at him sharply.
“No.” she said wiping her eyes, “I’m fine.” She said and she stood up and stepped away from the bridge. She brushed her pants off and ran a hand through her hair. She tucked the loose strands behind her ears and looked at the man who rescued her. He was Latino and he was beautiful.
“Thank you.” She whispered nodding and he stood nodding at her. She looked at him and he cleared his throat.
“If you don’t mind me asking, what possibly could be so bad that you can’t live anymore?” he asked softly. His brown eyes were light in the sun and his skin was tanned. He was a half of inch shorter than her while she wore cheap heels.
“You wouldn’t understand?” she gulped and sighed. She turned and began walking away.
“Try me.” He said flatly and she stopped. Nodding, she turned around.
“I was raped by my fucking parents okay. Then, to top it off, my dad and mom’s been after me ever since I ran away. And I can’t go to the fucking police. They’ll identify me as a missing person and I’ll be fucking dead. My dad is a police officer and he never stopped wanting my body! Neither did my mom!” She said, “Top it!” She was shoving her finger in her chest and biting back a cascade of tears.
He stood there starring coolly at her and she was nearly offended as he nodded and slipped his hands in his back jean pockets.
“I can top it,” he challenged softly, “welcome to my life.” He whispered and she starred at him.
She starred at him in disbelief and he gave her a small, sad smile. He extended his hand and she walked back slowly and shook it softly.
“Howard Dorough.” He said. His eyes drew her in and the closeness around her made her drink his smell in. It was sweet and sharp to her sinuses but it was good.
“Evelyn Brooks.”
