The long road home.

Rescued?

And then I feel hands wrapping around me, around my chest and my breast, squeezing me in a bear hug.

I shake and squirm and my headphones are ripped out of my ears. I watch almost in slow motion as my phone tumbles out of my pocket. After that I stop struggling.

Being limp, my body-snatcher is able to get me over the rails. They open the passenger door and shove me inside. I almost get my foot caught in the door as he – not the right shape for a woman applies the kiddy lock. A rush of wind hits me as he slams it in my face.

Suddenly the whole world is quiet.

All the emotions within me, pound at my head and my ears and my legs, begging for an exit. Eventually they find a way through my tear ducts.

****

He opens the driver's door and sits beside me. I don't look at him and I'm still crying. We both sit, almost in separate worlds. Him breathing, me crying. Both of us pledging allegiance to some sort of unspoken contract.

I feel so bad, selfish, worthless. I imagine my Mum, I imagine Dad – how he used to be, when everything was fun and fine between us. I let myself down too, if I hadn't hesitated...

We're parked right on the edge of the bridge, and cars pass us without so much as a glance in our direction

Eventually when my tears and my everything has run out and the guy breaks the contract, his words are long, slow and defined like he's chosen them with the utmost restraint and care, "You should not have tried that."

My words by contrast are weak and hurried, "That wasn't anything, I was just looking at the view."

"Crap."

"It's true!"

"What's your name?"

"Aimee."

"-"

We sit in silence for a while, I can feel his resentment incinerating next to me.

"Uhh, what's yours?"

"Samual."

"Nice."

"You are so lucky I was here."

"Yep."

"Literally what were you thinking? You weren't doing it because you were depressed, right? I don't think you stupid little 'ooh look at me I never get enough attention, no-one understands my problems' type of people have any idea how valuable your life is."

I say nothing, I'm beginning to hate this Samuel saviour. All people who consider themselves to be high and mighty annoy the crap out of me. But I don't say anything, I just stare at the door and hope that he'll unlock it.

My silence does nothing to deter him, probably actually infuriates him, "You think you've got problems, you don't understand. "You can just walk away from them."

I maintain my silence.

He checks his hair in the mirror, and for the first time I notice him; 17 or 18 years old really pale but still good looking. He grins, the infuriating little... "I bet there's a bully right?" He says, "Makes your life hell?"

Of course there's a bully. But I don't say anything, I rub my wrist against the door. It itches slightly.

"And let me guess, your parents, they don't understand you, they don't care about poor little Aimee. They're too busy working, earning money, saving for your college degree trying to put food on the table, trying to ensure that you get the best future possible."