Charlie doesn't know what to do. Part of him, the part he hates, wants to turn around and leave the bridge as though he never saw anything. He's already exhausted, already feeling angry again and he just wants to sleep. If the girl really is about to jump then why does she have to do it now? Why does it have to be him as the witness? Bad luck?
She might not be jumping. Maybe she just wants to sit on the ledge. Maybe she's seen something in the water underneath the dim sunrise that she wants to get a better look at. Charlie yawns and rubs his eyes. In the distance he sees the headlights of a car approaching.
Great, he thinks to himself. Got myself a reprieve.
He turns back around and starts walking along the bridge. He begins whistling to himself as the car reaches him and then it just drives straight by. Just. . . straight by.
"Hey!" Charlie shouts in frustration as he runs after the car.
It disappears over the bridge, prompting Charlie to pause in his tracks. He starts weighing up his options and he's running out of good ones. He has never been good at empathy and understanding so he knows he wouldn't be capable of talking anyone out of jumping. What if she starts babbling about her problems and her life story for hours?
He sees the girl clearly as he draws closer. She is still on the ledge, her hair blowing around her face as she focuses on the water. She hasn't jumped yet so he still has time, but how much time? He takes out his phone to call emergency services but his battery is dead.
Frustrated, he forces himself closer to her and he places himself awkwardly behind her on the platform. His fingers graze his stubble as he searches for the words to make her acknowledge him without startling her.
He toys between a greeting, a question, or an outright statement. Eventually he sighs and says the first thing that comes to mind.
"That's a long way down." Charlie whistles and sticks his head over the ledge. The water below is stretched out for miles and is so far down that it looks like a certain death. "Is down where you want to go?"
To his surprise, the girl doesn't react. Not to his presence or his question. She doesn't even blink. She mumbles something quietly to herself, a sort of prayer. He notices something familiar about her face, it is nagging him that he knows her from somewhere. The girl is young, possibly around his age. Maybe they've met crossed paths before.
"If you do this," he says. "If you jump, just be warned that I don't feel guilt easily. I won't spend the rest of my life questioning if I should have done something else because frankly I believe that we are all responsible for ourselves."
The girl closes her eyes, taking a large breath as she starts to twist a small medallion in her fingertips that is attached to a chain around her throat.
"If you're having relationship problems then I can relate," he says, folding his arms over the wall that separates them. "I wouldn't kill myself over it but I guess stress affects us in different ways. Something is obviously affecting you. Something at home?"
She continues to ignore him. She just keeps reciting the prayer. Charlie can make out three words; heaven, forgive, soul.
"You're religious?" he asks. "This is a sin right? One of the biggest? If you believe in that stuff then why risk it?"
He's running out of time. His hands clench around the wall of the ledge as he realizes he will soon witness her death. She won't survive that fall. No one that has ever jumped has ever survived that fall. They will pull her wet corpse from the deep depths of the water and they will say what they always say, 'not another one.'
Can Charlie let her be another one? She is a stranger to him as he is to her. He doesn't know her. He doesn't know what drove her to this. Could be guilt. She could be a bad person. Why should it be his responsibility to judge whether or not someone's worthy of being saved?
"If you jump you will die," Charlie says, more frantic this time. "I will have to answer a thousand questions from the police and all I want to do is sleep right now. I'll have to go down to the station, I'll have to look your damn family in the eye and explain why I didn't try my damn hardest to. . . look, how old are you? You can't be older than eighteen. Is it really that bad? Did you not make prom queen? Did your parents stop you from seeing a boy you like?"
She finally stops whispering and she turns her head to look at him. He glances into her eyes for the first time and he's startled. She's beautiful. Her golden-brown eyes are plagued with something sinister and devoid of joy. Something is broken inside of her and he can't imagine a girl with a face like that could feel it.
"What?" she whispers. "You think I'd be here because of a boy?"
"At last she speaks," Charlie mumbles. "Have I made you mad? That's good."
"You need to go. Now."
"Trust me, I wish I could but. . . I'm kind of a witness now. If you jump then I need to be here to explain what happened."
"Why would anyone care?" she says. "I have no one left. They pretend to care, all of them, even you. A stranger."
"I'm not pretending," Charlie says. "I don't care. I don't know you, lady. Like I said, I'd just rather not spend my morning writing statements. I mean we're already on camera." He points towards the CCTV camera operating across the street, but the girl doesn't look. "If that shows me walking away then the entire world will know about it."
"Why does that sound like the most honest thing you've ever said in your life?" she says quietly.
"Because it is. I tried to talk you out of it, I did my part."
"There is no voice in this world that can talk me out of this," she says. "I hope you never have to feel the amount of pain that walks someone along this bridge."
"Pain or not, isn't it selfish? What about your family?"
"My family will understand better than anyone else." The girl smiles to herself, slowly releasing her fingers away from the ledge.
Charlie inhales a breath and exhales thick air. If he walks away he will have to explain that. There will be a knock on his door tomorrow and he will be the most hated person of the year. What kind of person would walk away from another about to die? What kind of man would sleep knowing a soon-to-be-dead girl passed him her last thoughts and trusted him with them?
This girl is ill. She needs help. She needs support. She needs someone to tell her lies about how amazing she is and how much of her life deserves to be lived. She needs someone to take her hand and walk with her through the pain that brought her here. But this girl is alone. No one that cares about her is here; he is. What does he do with that?
"Is this really what you want?" Charlie asks her.
"Yes."
"I don't believe you. I don't believe that diving head first into freezing cold water is what anyone would want."
"That part doesn't matter. It's what it will give me. Does that make me depressed? Crazy? Any different from you?"
"I don't know."
"And you never will." She turns to meet his eyes, and it's then, in that moment, that Charlie recognizes her. He doesn't understand why it's taken so long to realize but he knows who she is now.
"Molly?" Charlie says. "Your name is Molly right? You're in a couple of my classes in school. Do you recognize me?"
"Of course I recognize you," she says bitterly. "I'm not blind like you."
The past few weeks flash through his mind like he's watching a television show. She was always quiet, hardly ever spoke, but she endured bullying from the other classmates. She was tormented. He watched it happen and he never did anything. No one did. There were rumours that she was in therapy, that she was in foster care, that she doesn't have a family. He suddenly realizes this is much more than a problem at home, this is hell for her.
"There's another way," Charlie says. "There's always another way. You don't want this, not really. I have never in my life said this but please trust me." Charlie extends his hand over the wall, a desperate gesture which she ignores. "Take my hand, Molly."
"Hands don't hold on, they let go."
"Not mine."
She smiles. "You might be a stranger, Charlie but I'm glad you were here. Just so you can see how wrong you are. Hands always let go, like this."
One. Two. Three. Sixty. Eighty. Ninety-five. Charlie eventually loses count of the speed his heart is travelling. It is moving quicker than the milliseconds because the milliseconds last for hours. Hands are everything at this moment. They are the weapon and they are the cure. The one attached to this body is still over the wall, hoping she will take it. The hands attached to hers fail and they are no longer in his reach as she pushes herself from the ledge.
Hands are the difference between writing statements all morning to the police as a failure or talking to the paramedics as something better. Charlie has never had to consider the difference. One millisecond passes and he has already decided to let the girl fall to her death. But his hands?
His hands act without his permission. Charlie has not yet decided to save her life, he has not yet decided to risk his own. He has not decided to care enough to follow her into the darkness. His hands do.
Charlie throws himself further over the wall and he grips her wrists just in time. She doesn't weigh much but she's struggling against his intervention.
"Let go of me!" Molly screams. Her body hangs loosely in the air, the waves of the water rage beneath them. "What are you doing!"
"I have no idea," Charlie says. "But I'm doing it."
"Don't you get it?" she hisses at him, while clawing at his hand. "I want to die. Let me go!"
"S-stop scratching me." Charlie attempts to pull her up the ledge but she tries to drag him with her.
"Want to be a hero now, do you?" she says. "Because this is on camera? Are you really that selfish?"
"Maybe. Stop struggling, you're going to take me with you."
Charlie hears cars pull up on the road behind him and he exhales a breath of relief. He hears doors slam and people running, he yells for them to stay back and to call the cops. One woman understands and begins dialling.
Molly stops scratching and his body relaxes. Charlie looks into her sad, empty eyes and he's startled to find fear riddled on her expression. She's not afraid that he'll drop her, she's afraid that he won't.
"You can't save me," she whispers. "Stop trying to."
"If I let you go then it's murder."
"If you allow me to live you're killing me all the same. It's my time. Let me go."
"No," Charlie grunts.
With or without her permission he is not giving up. Charlie clenches on his teeth to keep from screeching in pain as he uses all of his strength to try and pull Molly over the wall. She struggles and fights. Oh does she fight. His hand bleeds as she tears through his skin. Her teeth bite down and he still holds her. Her body wriggles and spasms as she tries to make him release her, but he still holds her.
He pulls her higher and then grabs underneath her armpits, one last pull and her body smashes against his, making him lose his balance. Something snaps in his shoulder and Charlie hisses as a sharp pain soars down his arm. Molly lays sideways against the wall and Charlie cradles her body to paralyse her.
"Someone help me!" Molly screams. "Get him off me!"
Suddenly, a woman and two men come running across the street. Charlie remains focused, using all his remaining strength to restrain her from jumping back over.
"What happened?" a woman demands. "She did she fall? Is she okay?"
"I'm fine," Molly says. "But get him off me please. Can't you see that I'm fine? He won't let go of me."
"Um. . . sir, maybe you should give her some space," a man says.
"If I let her go she'll jump back over," Charlie growls. "She didn't fall."
"He's lying," Molly cries. "I fell. I swear I did. Please help me."
The man hovers above Charlie's face and Charlie knows how bad this must look. He's practically holding her prisoner against her will.
He doesn't know how this will end or how it even began. All he knows is that no matter what happens he won't be sleeping for a while.