Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 125845 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 419(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125845 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 419(@300wpm)
I edge closer to him. The synapses in my brain are firing in total panic mode, trying to catalogue the red flags I’d missed.
TJ’s always been antisocial, but he also made an effort to go out with me, to socialize with my friends. He didn’t isolate himself from everyone, so I didn’t consider it a red flag. He barely drinks, doesn’t abuse drugs, so no red flag there. He has trouble opening up to people, expressing his emotions—but that’s not unique. Corinne is equally guarded, and I didn’t peg her as suicidal either.
God. I don’t know what to do.
I truly don’t.
This isn’t a class project, or a fucking true crime show. This is real life, and I’m utterly helpless.
I try again. “Listen, it’s obvious you’ve been drinking—”
“No, I haven’t.” His voice is unnervingly composed.
I bite my lip. Shit. He’s sober? He’s literally standing on a ledge, four stories off the ground, and he’s stone-cold sober?
I suddenly hear the wail of sirens in the distance. My heart jumps. Is this about us? Did someone spot us up here and call the police? God, I want the police to come. I want them to bring one of those negotiators who talks to potential jumpers and convinces them not to commit suicide.
I’m not equipped to handle this.
The wind snakes under my hair and makes it flap around me like a panicky bird. I didn’t even grab a coat when I ran out of my house. I’m in my red sweater and leggings and boots, and it’s so cold outside I feel the chill in my lungs. I can’t even imagine how cold TJ must be—he’s in a thin T-shirt. His slight build could get knocked over by a strong gust. And judging by the snowflakes falling and swirling wildly in the air, that gust could come any second.
“Okay,” I say weakly. “Okay. If you’re not going to come down, then I’m coming up.”
“Stay away, Demi.” TJ’s shoulders set in a tense line. “Seriously. I’ll do it.”
I clench my teeth, in fear, not anger, and inch closer to the ledge. “I don’t want you to,” I tell him, as my heart drums a terrified rhythm on my ribcage. “First I want to talk to you. After that, we can discuss your next move.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. Go back to your new boyfriend.”
I reach the ledge. And almost throw up when I glimpse the thin layer of white frost spanning the cement. At least I hope it’s just frost, and not a solid stretch of ice.
“Is that what this is about, then?” I ask quietly. “Me and Hunter?”
“Yes, I’m standing here about to jump to my death because of you and Hunter. Christ, Demi! You are so fucking self-absorbed.”
I flinch. Then I suck in a gulp of frigid air and lift one foot onto the ledge. It slips on my first attempt. Fuck, that is ice. Oh Lord. What am I fucking doing right now?
Saving your friend. He needs help.
Yes. TJ needs help.
I take another breath.
The second time, I manage to climb up. And then I’m standing beside him, and I make the mistake of looking down and oh my fuck, looking down was a terrible idea.
I inhale through the rush of dizziness that hits me. Inhale. Then exhale. I force myself to keep breathing. I don’t look down again. But the image has already been branded in my brain. That huge drop. No grass or bushes down there, either. Nothing but pavement.
My breath escapes in frantic white puffs. That was legit the scariest sight I’d ever seen.
But what’s even scarier is the thought of losing TJ. I may not have heard his cries for help before, but I sure as hell am hearing them now.
“Get down,” he snaps at me, but the anger has left his voice. It’s been replaced by worry. Desperation. “You could get hurt.”
“So could you. And I’m not getting down until you do.”
“Really? Suddenly you care so much about me?”
“I’ve always cared about you, TJ. You’re one of my best friends.” Do not look down again, Demi. Do not—
I glance down again and almost puke. Four stories is, what, fifty feet? Why does it seem so much higher from where we are? I never thought fifty feet was so fucking high.
“Best friends,” TJ scoffs. “Do you know how patronizing that is?”
“What, calling you my friend? I’ve known you since freshman year, TJ.”
“Exactly! Freshman year! That means I waited almost three years for you to wake up and see what a douchebag Nico was.”
The wind ruffles our hair. This time I refuse to take another peek over the edge.
“And then you broke up with that asshole, and I gave you space and time to heal. I thought, just be patient, man. We have this connection and I thought, she’s finally going to see what was in front of her fucking eyes for three years.” Anguish clouds his face. “I thought you would come to me after you dumped Nico and instead you go for that fucking hockey asshole?”