My life could possibly be meaningless. How do I know? Trust me, I just do. Why do you think I am standing here on the roof of my office building with not a single police officer or family member praying for me to please, God please, get her down.

No.

I am alone. Utterly and destructively alone. And I don't mean just alone in my current predicament, but alone in life. My parents, biological parents, died in an accident that is still a mystery to me when I was ten and no one, not my foster parents, not my friends--none of the boys that I had given myself to when I was younger, ever loved me.

I can hear the seagulls from here. Summer is in full swing and I know that when the world finally realizes that my body is destroyed on the pavement, all ready full of the stench of an unloving life they will barely feel the loss. Who was she? They will say, no, they will murmur, almost too embarrassed to even have a curiosity for my corpse.

No one knows I am here, no one knows what I am about to do. So why do I feel a pair of eyes on me? It isn't a feeling of being disturbed, but it is the feeling of having someone drilling a hole into my thoughts. Is this what you want? It asks, yes, I answer in my mind thinking that I must be crazy for even talking to myself. Come on miss, the voice continues, you are standing on the roof of a four storey building contemplating between life and death, a tight rope artist on the verge of giving up on the act, if I say so myself. You have no right to call yourself crazy for talking to yourself. Touché, I compliment the voice and look down at the darkened street under me.

I came out at night. No one knows who I am, but I am too shy to kill myself in public. That is just me, the shy suicidal banker. Isn't life wonderful? I ignore the stare that is still scrutinizing me and take the leap of faith.

When someone says to you that killing yourself is something peaceful, calm almost, as you feel the air rushing past you, they aren't lying. The fall is short, but somehow it feels like it is a simple flight of freedom that lasts an eternity. I keep my eyes closed and I feel something wet rushing past me, I was crying. God, why was I crying? This life wasn't right for me, so why should I waste my hard earned tears on it?

The ground was colder than I anticipated and the seagulls didn't sound as loud down here. I felt the weeds seeping through the sidewalks tickling my bare legs and I couldn't move any part of my body. Paralyzed. My view is foggy and blood is tidal waving over my eyes.

"Does it hurt as much as it looks?" A man appears out of nowhere and asks me, his voice melts my ears due to his English accent. I gurgle in response, blood spurting out of me. I can barely tell what he looks like, but I can hear him resting himself beside me. "I told you not to jump."

That was you? I think, trying to move my neck but nothing happens.

"Yes, it was." I can tell that he is sizing up the situation by the tone of his voice and the fact that he has just read my mind passes by me completely. I feel the world tip as I find myself trying harder and harder to breathe and I feel him stir beside me. "Here we go."

I feel unspeakable pain as I am lifted onto the stranger's lap and I utter my last breath as I feel a soft, sensual tingling on my neck. My bloody vision of the world becomes even more of a blur as I feel a heat, soft and sweet, running through my broken bones. The rest is a dream, a beautiful dream as, for the first time, some sort of love rushes through me.

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Author guidance for This story

I know that there are a lot of vampire stories going around, but I was kind of thinking about putting my own spin to it. I hope you guys enjoy it!
I'm currently working on multiple projects, so I will try my best to write in here frequently, so I apologize in advance! Please feel free to comment on anything that you think needs to be fixed, thanks!

Dayla

updated Jun 16 '09 by d.f.m