Lifeline

"How about you be my lifeline and I'll be yours?"

The wind laps at my hair, tousling it over my eyes as I turn around. I carelessly shove strands off my face as I squint at the figure, though it wasn't necessary. She's standing not more than 5 feet away, but my tears are obscuring my vision.

I run my sleeve across my face hastily before trying to put on a neutral expression. I don't know her name, but I've seen her before, in English class.

She's the girl that barely anybody talks to, the mysterious person who entered the school at the beginning of the second semester. Although she doesn't sit in the corner like some people, she definitely makes no attempt to socialize with anyone near her.

It's the first time I've ever gotten a good look at her, but her facial features are actually quite nice. I find myself staring into her hazel eyes, temporarily distracted from my suicide attempt just a moment ago.

"So?"

Her voice snaps me out of my trance, and now that I think about it, I've never heard her voice before today either.

Right, the question.

I don't know what I was expecting to happen when I came up here, other than the straightforward course of action, of course. The plan was to just, well, jump. Off the rooftop of an apartment building in NYC.

I didn't consider the consequences of my actions when I walked all 20 flights of stairs to get here. What would have happened to my younger sister if I left her alone forever, right here and now? What would have happened to my corpse? I wanted to leave this world to stop being a nuisance to others, not cause more complications by having someone clean up my body.

I look up at her again, locking eyes once more.

"Sure."

Her face breaks into a smile; dimples adorning her cheeks. The edges of my own mouth tugs upwards, even if it's just slightly.

She suddenly extends an arm out to me, offering assistance to help me step off the ledge. Only then do I realize that I've been precariously balancing on the concrete for a few minutes now. I take her hand.

"I'll be your lifeline, then." She stops tugging after we got a fair distance in between our spots and the edge, but doesn't let go of my hand.

"And I'll be yours."