Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own anything that has anything to do with Naruto. This is strictly for my own satisfaction.
Warning: This story may contain mature themes and undertones such as suicide, drug usage, sex, and whatever else I feel like throwing into the mix. I apologize if anyone reading happens to be sensitive about any of those topics, but this story may not be for you.
How To Save A Life
Chpt. 1: Nothing Matters
Why did it have to be this way?
She was a good person, in her opinion. She tried to treat people with the same respect she desired to be treated with. She loved animals, babies, generally cute things. She even loved the unsought. The possum that frequented her yard for table scraps would attest to that. She volunteered at the hospital, made sure to respect her elders.
So what made her such a failure? It seemed for every one positive attribute she portrayed, her father managed to find three negative. He hated her, she could tell.
Not that it would be that hard to, anyway. Disgust emanated from him in waves whenever she was in his vicinity, every statement made in her regard laced with malice.
And she had never been the defiant type, always answered with "Yes, father," "As you wish, father," "I'm sorry, father," "I'll try harder, father," even to the declarations that cut her the deepest, the ones that caused her to loathe herself just as he loathed her.
But that night, it had been different. She had been different. Frustrated and berated, her emotions culminated in the form of anger, causing her to rise from her prostrated position before him, look him in his disbelieving eyes and utter the one word she had never dared to speak towards him.
"No."
She couldn't even recall what he had been saying, what today's verbal lashing had been about. (They had all begun to run together, anyway.) But she remembered his reaction. Swifter than her eyes could process, he had stood and moved, and in one unforeseen strike she was on the floor. Stars had burst behind her eyelids as pain erupted across the left side of her face. The tears were instant, and a small stream of blood dribbled from the corner of her mouth as she placed a trembling palm against her cheek and looked up at him. The vision in her left eye had blurred a bit, but she could make out his expression quite clearly.
Ire she had only seen once before marred his face, twisting his expression into a wild sneer. His nostrils flared, his chest heaved, his eyes bulged and he vaguely reminded her of an angry horse at that moment. And though his composure had been lost, his voice had never lost its calm as he demanded that she leave his house and never come back. He hadn't needed to tell her twice and she scuttled to her feet and rushed from the room. She had flown down the long corridor, past her gelid cousin, down the winding stairs, and out the front door into the misty, frigid night of Konoha city.
She had run, run until her throat was dry and raw, until her lungs burned and her side was cinched with cramps. She ran until street lamps became more frequent, until houses and apartment buildings were stationed closer together and then she knew she was in the inner city, somewhere her father detested, somewhere he wouldn't come looking for her. It would be just like him to send her cousin to fetch her, even though he had told her to leave, just so he could insult her some more. Though, judging from how angry she had gotten him tonight, it would more than likely be to satisfy his bloodlust.
Her run slowed to a light jog, then to a brisk walk, until she lumbered along at a leisure pace, her limbs feeling heavy and burdensome as the weight of her father's words began to sink her further into depression.
"You will never be as good as your sister. She should have been firstborn."
"No man would want you as a wife. You are too weak."
"I feel sorry for your future offspring, as you will not be able to teach them anything of value."
"I abhor the fact that I produced such a feeble child."
"Failure."
They rang loudly in her mind, clear as crystal, though they had been there for years and would probably remain there for the rest of her life.
And that thought gave her pause.
Did she really want to live with that voice in her head; always shooting her ideas down, always telling her she was worth nothing, always letting her know just where her place in his household was? What's more, did she really want to live with her own self loathing?
She knew how burdensome she was, how easily overlooked she was. Untalented, unimpressive, incapable, nerveless, fragile, tepid... the list went on.
And the pressure... the fatigue brought on daily by just going through the motions of everyday living was incredible.
Where would she go? How would she earn a living? Sure, she had money saved, but that would only go so far, and that's if her father hadn't already put the order in to freeze her assets.
Who could she go to? She had no friends, all of her immediate family lived in one household, she had no distant relatives that she could remember. No guidance, no mentors. She had been home-schooled her entire life, an as such, became very socially inept. She was very timid, very awkward, and generally not a good conversationalist.
It was utterly depressing, the weight that inadequacy wrought upon her. It left a numbness to slither down her spine and settle in her abdomen. Everything seemed surreal, like she was in a monotonous dream. And it hit her. Like a cement brick tied tight to her ankle, it was pulling her under, drowning her in the realization of just how miserable her life really was.
Almost automatically, almost before her brain could process the motion, her feet were moving once more. As if spellbound, it seemed her body had come to an understanding before her mind had, and after a few minutes more of walking, she looked ahead of her and found that she was about a block away from the great and massive Hokage bridge. Lined with its numerous orange overhead lights, it stood out in the brumous fogginess of the night like a beacon, a lighthouse to a ship lost at sea.
It was an impressive build, but one she had seen many times in her life, even if it had only been through the passenger seat of her driver's car. She had grown accustomed to it, and therefore, did not stop to take in the fine view. She insensibly trudged onward, and as the frosty night grew even more frosty, traveled to the very center of the bridge.
She peered out at the vast body of water spread out before her, and though she knew it to be there, the blackened sky made it appear to have vanished. She felt as if she were staring into a void of oblivion, an open pit of nothingness. She gripped the bars with both hands and inhaled deeply, the acute fragrance of sea water filling her nostrils. She listened as the modest waves lapped at the base of the pillars that upheld the structure, reveled in the stark quietness of the usually bustling city bridge. It was good. She could think here; say her goodbyes to the universe and make peace with herself before taking her leave from this wretched world.
Through the numbness that had settled upon her being, she was vaguely aware of the tears streaming down her face, the biting gusts of wind that tore through what little she had worn out of the house, the goosebumps that peppered the pale skin of her arms, the iciness that seeped into her palms from the steel railing as she clutched it...
But none of it mattered. She was conscious and aware, but for once in her life, none of it mattered. She smiled a bit to herself, aware of the irony in her dire situation.
How funny, that she would find freedom on this, her last night amongst the living?
But for a few long minutes, she dared to soak it in. She closed her eyes, leaned forward against the rail, and inhaled deeply once more as a lone tear made its way down her cheek. She exhaled slowly.
"You're not going to jump."
She startled at the deep, smokey voice, her grip on the rail tightening as her head whipped to her right, plumes of white exhalation escaping her cracked lips as her heart rate accelerated. There he was, five feet away, leaning against the same rail as she, yet, so casually, so carefree. One wrist dangled over, the other propped his chin in his hand as he peered at her through obsidian eyes, his expression bland, almost bored. He cocked his head, as if awaiting her response. She swallowed.
"Why... wouldn't I?"she whispered. He smirked a little, just a tiny upturn of his lips as his eyes narrowed.
"You're too hesitant. Thinking about it too much. You must have something to live for," he replied, turning his head to lean over the rail a bit as he peered down below them. He whistled.
"It would be a cool way to go, though. It is a long way to fall," he muttered.
He looked back at her then, inky irises glinting in the overhead bridge light. She stared at him for a moment before turning her head to take in the same view he had. She remained quiet, though her heart rate had not slowed. A lighter flicked (once... twice) to her right, and she listened to the crackling of the ember eating at tobacco as he inhaled deeply. She heard the shuffle of boots on wet concrete and looked right to see that he had changed positions, his back against the rail as his elbows propped him up.
He looked like what her father would label "trouble", with his black cargo pants and military boots, dark hooded pea-coat and fingerless gloves. He looked like darkness incarnate, some sort of rebel, a rogue, or maybe... maybe he was her angel of death, some sort of shinigami. Maybe he was there to guide her to the afterlife.
"I will..." she whispered, a lone tear escaping to drop down her cheek. His hooded head was tilted back, peering up at the moonless sky as the hand holding his lit cigarette retracted from pale lips. His eyes slid over to her, and he watched out of his peripheral as she lifted her right foot to the first tier of the rail.
"You won't," he sighed, second-hand expelling from his mouth in tendrils and coiling into the air before vanishing into the night.
She blinked. Shouldn't he be trying to talk her down? Convincing her that life is worth living? Who was he?
"Who are you?" she voiced timidly. He narrowed his eyes, lifting a sable brow as he turned to face her.
"Does it matter?" he asked, taking a couple of steps toward her. She eyed him warily, her hands tightening once more as she hoisted her left foot up along with the other. He smirked at the action, lifting the cigarette to his lips once more.
"If you're going to die tonight, does it really matter who I am?" he asked her, his silky voice causing goosebumps to raise along her sleeveless arms. She gave a small shiver, and (blaming it on the chill in the air) couldn't help thinking that she wouldn't mind if his was the last voice she ever heard.
She watched him mutely as she pondered his question for a moment, her hair whipping lightly. She supposed he was right.
"I suppose you're right," she answered quietly. She climbed the second tier.
"So jump, then," he told her, his mouth cracking in a wry grin. And in that moment, she couldn't help but to think this is no angel.
Another tear slid down her pale face. Damn her for thinking, even for a second that someone actually gave a shit about her. He was only there for a show... so, who was she to disappoint?
She exhaled slowly, her brows unfurrowing as her face became a blank slate, her heartbeat abated to its regular pace as a calm lulled over her. Then she smiled sadly, her resolution made.
"So jump, ka?" she muttered releasing the rail. Another tear. He was watching. Studying, waiting. She leaned forward...
"It would be a waste, though," he drawled, flicking his cigarette over the railing. She paused, watched as it fell... down... down... down... She didn't see it hit the bottom.
"I mean, you're kind of attractive," he told her, folding his arms on the rail and resting his chin atop of them. She blinked at him, her breath catching as another tear was sliding down her cheek .
"N-nani...?" she whispered, her brows scrunching together as she stared confusedly at him. Was he... hitting on her?
They stared unblinkingly at each other for a long silent moment, until she remembered to breathe. Then she exhaled in a ragged huff. He slid along the railing closer to her, about a foot away and sudden thoughts of brushing his dark bangs away from his eyes were quickly dispersed. She didn't even know him. Didn't need to.
"Come on," he said suddenly, straightening to his full height and holding a hand towards her. She shook her head slowly, long, dark strands glinting as they swayed under her chin.
"No," she said weakly, "I'm going to jump. I'm going to die."
He frowned.
"You're. Not. Going. To jump," he reiterated slowly, reaching for her hand. He grasped her wrist lightly, she snatched way. He smirked.
"Tell you what," he said, cocking his head to the side, "Let me take you for coffee. We can talk about it, if you'd like. If you still feel the same in an hour, I will walk you back to this exact spot."
She stared at him. Seeing her incredulity for what it was, he raised his hand as if pledging.
"Hell, I'll even kiss you goodbye."
Was this the same stranger who had told, no, basically dared her to jump not even three minutes ago? What did he want? Why did he care, anyway? She sniffled.
"W-hat do you care if I jump?" she mumbled, and he shrugged before outstretching his hand once more. She eyed him skeptically for a moment. Maybe it was a trick. If it was, she could always escape whatever asylum he had her committed to and come back. She was always good at picking locks.
She slid a small, cold palm into his large, clothed one. He tugged gently, and she allowed herself to be pulled down.
"Let's just call it 'Paying it Forward,'" came his reply.
He released her hand to dig into his inner coat pocket to fish out his zippo and his pack of squares. He flipped open the pack and pulled one out before placing it back into his inner pocket. He placed the square between his colorless lips and struck the wheel of the silver lighter, lifting it to light the tip.
She stared as he took a drag and squared his shoulders before looking back up at her, his eyebrows lowered as he watched her. He exhaled, and she resisted the urge to cough as the smoke ghosted past her face and through her hair.
"Come on," he said, turning on his heel and strolling away. She hesitated for a moment, a last tear rolling down her chilled cheek.
"But... I don't even know you..." she mentioned as she took one timid step forward. He stopped, his head turned to the side to catch her quiet statement. She couldn't see his whole face, for he still donned his dark hood, but she could make out his lips as they parted for the wispy tendrils of smoke to escape slowly and dissipate into the damp air.
"In the end... does it matter?" he muttered. He waited for a beat, then two, and then he resumed walking.
Did it matter, in the end? Really, when she thought about it, did it really matter if he was a deranged psycho murderer, or some perverted serial killer? He would just be doing the same thing she had been about to do to herself. Hopefully, he was, since she seemed to be too much of a coward to actually off herself. Failure.
You were right again, Father.
She watched him as he slowly strode further and further away from her, puffs of smoke intravenously exiting from the vicinity of his hood. She hesitated for one moment more before her mind was made up.
"W-wait... wait!" she called before trotting off to catch up to him. It didn't take her very long, and it didn't surprise her that when she did catch up, she was met with awkward silence.
It did surprise her, however, when he reached out and took her hand.