still not looking at her. "I'm not good at this comforting stuff. If you want to kill yourself, go ahead and do it. I don't care. But could just go ahead and do it already, would you? You're putting me in a difficult position here."
I pause, waiting for a reaction from her that doesn't come. My gaze wanders back to her and I’m met with the same tearful expression I saw before. You'd think that my lack of empathy would push some buttons with her, confuse her, make her angry. Instead, there's nothing. No expression, no reaction.
I don't have time for this.
It seems I have to dig a little deeper if I want to stir something inside of her. The sick and twisted part of me takes over, as I come up with my next line.
"Or - since you're going to die anyway," I continue, "how about the two of us have a little fun before you go? One last good fuck. Is there a better way to die?"
Finally. Her eyebrows shift into an angry furl. Her grip tightens around the rail behind her, and she pulls herself back, away from certain death, as she hisses, "What the fuck, you sick bastard!"
I smirk at her. "Is that a no?"
She contorts her face and looks at me with utmost disgust. "That's a hell no !"
I shrug indifferently, hiding the fact that my heart flutters behind my broad chest like a trapped insect. It's too late for me. If she jumps, I fucking care. If she doesn't jump, I have a problem on my hands, one that I was trying to avoid today.
It's that damn dilemma that leads me to follow up by saying something that causes her to inhale with shock.
"Oh well," I say. "I guess I'll just have to wait until your body washes ashore then."
I add another little shrug and look at her as if I just proposed to go for an innocent drink, while she stares at me with wide eyes, gasping for air as she tries to process what I just said.
"That's so...," she stutters.
Disgusting. I know. But it did the job. Her hands are tightening around the rail, and while she stares at me as if I was the creepiest person alive, she seems to have forgotten about her initial intention. Her agony is replaced with shock and distaste for this odd stranger who suggests fucking her dead body if she dares to jump without granting him one last fuck.
And curiosity.
"Either way," I say, now daring to take a few steps closer to her, "I don't care what you do, or how I'll get a taste of you."
I pause, taken by the striking sight of her fright before I continue speaking and walking cautiously toward her.
"Just make up your fucking mind. This is getting ridiculous."
She bites her lower lip as she looks up at me. I am now within arm’s reach of her. Even if she decided to let go of the rail now, I could probably catch her before she plunged to her death. However, I'd prefer not to be put to test on that.
"You're disgusting," she hisses. "And cruel."
"Cruel?" I ask, raising my eyebrows at her. "How's that?"
"Don't you think there are better things to say to someone in this position?" she wants to know.
I shake my head. "Maybe. But I told you, I'm not good with this whole comforting stuff, and I'm no therapist. If you think your life is not worth living anymore, who am I to judge? Maybe you're right. Some people are better off dead. For their own good - and that of others."
That may not be true for her, but it certainly is for the garbage that is currently rotting in my car's trunk. That terrible excuse for a human being didn't deserve to live one moment longer than he did.
But her? She doesn't seem to deserve that fate, and I hate the fact that she's still standing on the wrong side of the rail. I take another step toward her so that I'm standing almost right behind her, close enough to wrap my arms around her fragile upper body. If she doesn't decide to climb back to safety within the next few moments, I will force her to.
A sob escapes her lips as she finally seems to find herself confronted with making that dreadful decision. My distraction could only work for so long. She
I pause, waiting for a reaction from her that doesn't come. My gaze wanders back to her and I’m met with the same tearful expression I saw before. You'd think that my lack of empathy would push some buttons with her, confuse her, make her angry. Instead, there's nothing. No expression, no reaction.
I don't have time for this.
It seems I have to dig a little deeper if I want to stir something inside of her. The sick and twisted part of me takes over, as I come up with my next line.
"Or - since you're going to die anyway," I continue, "how about the two of us have a little fun before you go? One last good fuck. Is there a better way to die?"
Finally. Her eyebrows shift into an angry furl. Her grip tightens around the rail behind her, and she pulls herself back, away from certain death, as she hisses, "What the fuck, you sick bastard!"
I smirk at her. "Is that a no?"
She contorts her face and looks at me with utmost disgust. "That's a hell no !"
I shrug indifferently, hiding the fact that my heart flutters behind my broad chest like a trapped insect. It's too late for me. If she jumps, I fucking care. If she doesn't jump, I have a problem on my hands, one that I was trying to avoid today.
It's that damn dilemma that leads me to follow up by saying something that causes her to inhale with shock.
"Oh well," I say. "I guess I'll just have to wait until your body washes ashore then."
I add another little shrug and look at her as if I just proposed to go for an innocent drink, while she stares at me with wide eyes, gasping for air as she tries to process what I just said.
"That's so...," she stutters.
Disgusting. I know. But it did the job. Her hands are tightening around the rail, and while she stares at me as if I was the creepiest person alive, she seems to have forgotten about her initial intention. Her agony is replaced with shock and distaste for this odd stranger who suggests fucking her dead body if she dares to jump without granting him one last fuck.
And curiosity.
"Either way," I say, now daring to take a few steps closer to her, "I don't care what you do, or how I'll get a taste of you."
I pause, taken by the striking sight of her fright before I continue speaking and walking cautiously toward her.
"Just make up your fucking mind. This is getting ridiculous."
She bites her lower lip as she looks up at me. I am now within arm’s reach of her. Even if she decided to let go of the rail now, I could probably catch her before she plunged to her death. However, I'd prefer not to be put to test on that.
"You're disgusting," she hisses. "And cruel."
"Cruel?" I ask, raising my eyebrows at her. "How's that?"
"Don't you think there are better things to say to someone in this position?" she wants to know.
I shake my head. "Maybe. But I told you, I'm not good with this whole comforting stuff, and I'm no therapist. If you think your life is not worth living anymore, who am I to judge? Maybe you're right. Some people are better off dead. For their own good - and that of others."
That may not be true for her, but it certainly is for the garbage that is currently rotting in my car's trunk. That terrible excuse for a human being didn't deserve to live one moment longer than he did.
But her? She doesn't seem to deserve that fate, and I hate the fact that she's still standing on the wrong side of the rail. I take another step toward her so that I'm standing almost right behind her, close enough to wrap my arms around her fragile upper body. If she doesn't decide to climb back to safety within the next few moments, I will force her to.
A sob escapes her lips as she finally seems to find herself confronted with making that dreadful decision. My distraction could only work for so long. She
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