Enjoy!

TW: Suicide attempt

Ibrahim

Chapter 70

The Bridge

My refusal to allow Nadir to marry Azizah was pointless. It meant nothing. She would end up his wife, because I would no longer be an obstacle.

I would be gone by morning, a body floating in the Seine.

Minutes after M. Daae and the Perraults left, I left too. For all I knew, Nadir was still in my home, comforting Azizah against her cruel brother's explosive words and actions. I knew my behavior had seemed close to insane. I didn't care. I didn't care about anything anymore.

I knew I'd walked for hours through Paris. I didn't know exactly how long. But night came. And night wore on. If I were to guess, I would have said it was past midnight. And when the realization came that I didn't want to go home, and I didn't want to go to Erik and Christine, and I didn't want to continue wandering, and I couldn't visit Raoul, and I could never, ever again go home to Persia - and as all of these thoughts occurred to me as I crossed a bridge over the Seine - an immense feeling of euphoria came over me.

Euphoria, because suddenly, I had a solution. The door to my cage had just unlocked.

I looked over the side of the bridge. It was twenty, perhaps twenty-five, feet down. A fall that most would survive if they landed correctly. And if they knew how to keep themselves afloat after hitting the water.

No one else was around, that I could see. I climbed over and stood on the small ledge on the outside of the bridge, keeping a tight grip on the stone behind me. Yesterday came flooding back. I tried, again, to talk to Raoul. I told him that I still wished for his friendship. He said he no longer wished for mine. He said he wished he'd never met me. Something broke inside me at those words - Izad had said the same thing. He'd cried when he did, and I knew it came from a place of pain and not hatred, but the words were the same.

To hear them twice, from people I cared for-

Perhaps I simply wasn't meant to love anyone. Not, at least, in the way I desperately wanted to.

I closed my eyes.

I would count to twenty.

One. Two. Three.

My breath shook. So did my arms.

Four five six.

I felt my throat become thick. My eyes fill with tears.

Sixseveneight.

"Monsieur?"

I gasped and opened my eyes, snapping my head in the direction of a female voice. She was young and pretty, with yellow hair and tawny eyes, standing on the bridge, next to me on the other side.

I stared at her as she cocked her head, "Are you going for a swim in the Seine?"

My reply was idiotic, but it was the first thing my mind concocted: "I can't swim."

She flicked her eyes to the river below, then to me, hanging on, one loose pinky away from tumbling in. "Then...you might not have a merry time."

I blinked.

And then laughed. Hard. If this was some sort of watcher angel, then she had a dry, dark sense of humor. Not what I would have expected.

"What is your name, Monsieur?"

I considered not responding, not telling her the identity of the pathetic man about to jump to his death, but fuck it all. "Ibrahim."

"Oh!"

"What?"

"You're one of Vincenzo's spies. You work with Raoul."

I looked into the black water.

"My name is Meg," she continued. "I live at the Pink Silk Inn."

I looked at her again. If she lived there, then that could mean only one thing about her profession. "What are you doing out so late? Your patrons come to you, I thought."

"They do. But I charge double to meet them in the comfort of their own homes. Rich bachelors have no qualms about inviting girls like me into their bedrooms - no wives to put up a fuss. But, alas, he didn't want to pay for a full night, so I am cast out into the streets at nearly two in the morning, hoping to avoid any nefarious ne'er-do-wells."

"That sounds quite risky."

"It certainly is. And I'd feel so much safer having a man I trust walk me home." She smiled sweetly at me. "Someone, perhaps, who is friends with my friends?"

My breathing was even. "I know what you are doing."

"Is it working?"

I closed my eyes. I had no idea if she was actually frightened to be alone at night. But if she was, then I could do this one last good thing, I suppose. The bridge wasn't going anywhere. "For now." I turned, carefully, so that I could climb back over. Meg kept one warm hand on my arm as I did so successfully. My heart was racing. I hoped that, later, after I saw her safely home, I was able to keep up the momentum that gave me the courage to nearly jump.

"Thank you, Ibrahim, for agreeing to walk me home." Meg kept that hand on my arm and began walking forward. I realized she was keeping us in the dead middle of the bridge as we went, far from either side. "I already feel more protected." She laughed softly. "I can feel your muscles through your sleeve."

For once, I wasn't in the mood to flirt.

She noticed. "Might I ask what brought you to the Seine to swim so late?"

"I'd rather not discuss it."

"I understand. We can go in silence, if you'd like."

"Please."

We walked a few streets, not a word between us, and as we did, that euphoria began to disappear. And the hopelessness returned. When we arrived, at last, at the inn, I realized that I didn't want to die - but I didn't know how to continue living. What I wanted was to lie in bed and close my eyes. I just didn't want to face my sister or Nadir.

"This is it," she murmured. But she didn't go in. She would, though, soon - and I'd be left alone once more, with only my thoughts for company.

I didn't know what to do. I didn't know where to go.

And I no longer wanted to leap off that bridge. I just wanted... I wanted...

"I've almost jumped," she said then, and I listened. She didn't look at me. "I love someone who doesn't love me. But what I've found is that accepting other love where it's given is the best remedy to a broken heart. Though this man doesn't love me in return, I have someone who has told me he would marry me if I ever wanted. I have the affection of my sisters." She paused. "This might not be what you are going through, but I thought it might help regardless."

"Thank you," I whispered.

I found, actually, that it did help.

"Would you like to stay the night?" she offered kindly, facing me fully. "I would consider you walking me home a payment for whatever services you'd desire. I'm sure my mother - the Madame - would too. And if she doesn't, I will eat the cost-"

"No," I said. "No, I...have somewhere I can go."

Her eyes turned wary. "Not the bridge?"

I offered a reassuring smile in return. At least, I hoped it was reassuring. "Not the bridge."