A Little Death

I

I was sitting at my desk, in the crowded office which I could not say I despised, instead I had no feelings towards it.

I worked at a suicide prevention hotline office.

I sat in the gloom, the deafening sound of people trying to save people who had decided to give themselves one last chance before they ended it. And their life was in our hands.

Our hands.

My hands.

The phone rang, and with my own hands, I picked it up.

The sound of sniffling came from the other side.

I braced myself and took the call.

The final shaky words the broken woman on the other side said to me were "Thanks, I have motivation to think about it, thank you, sir."

She cut the line and I stood, ear to phone, listening to the uncomfortable and abrupt static that I had come to absolutely hate. The sound hurt not only my ears but my heart and brain. The sound that came before someone gives you the overwhelmingly burdening responsibility of saving their life. The sound after someone either decides that they've had enough and see no other option or the sound after someone decides to continue with their excruciating life with a smile on their face.

It was 2 AM. The digital clock on my desk beeped disturbing the silence of my small 5x5 foot office cell. Half an hour and my shift would be over. I didn't plan to go home and sleep. I just wanted to be alone.

30 minutes later, my shift ends, I pick up all my stuff and left. I roam around for some time, I had forgotten to call my cab so I walk the few miles to my house instead. I do not feel like going home if I could even call it home.

The small apartment that I had saved up money to rent, thinking that I would finally have a place I could call home. I did not so much as even like it. I wished every day that the place would go up in a fire. I did not mind it being small at all. It was the crushing loneliness there I hated.

I walked and walked until I came upon a little subsidiary street. Curious, I entered it, the dim street light shone, making my shadow tall and distorted. Moths flew around it. Graffiti covered the walls completely. It radiated under street lights, looking alive.

I took a turn at the first gap in the wall I saw. A long, even dimmer-lit alley awaited me. I stepped in, letting the cold air grow colder around me.

The smell of smoke lingered in the air. I tried to locate its source, and see if someone was in here with me. Sure enough, there she was.

A beautiful woman, not taller than about 5'1. She turned to look at me just as I saw her. Her hazel eyes shone beautifully. Her long slender fingers were holding a cigarette. Her pitch black hair ran down to her shoulders, wavy and well-conditioned. Her plump lips were a little red from smoking the cigarette, her nose and cheeks were flushed from the extreme cold. The light of the blue neon sign next to her, made a side of her face light up. 

She stared at me as if she was sizing me up.

I knew I had froze for a while when I saw her, she looked like Aphrodite but badass.

I continued walking, a while later, when I came back to my senses.

I could feel her piercing gaze on me as I walked past her in the narrow alley.

As soon as I couldn't see her, I had to look back.

But before I did, I felt a cold hand on my shoulder.

"Who sent you?" her fierce nature was visible through her voice.

"Huh?" I turned around to look at her.

"Go ahead, tell me. I don't suppose you were staring me down because you find that I look like a MILF?"

For some time, I was confused. Then I looked down to find my 'I heart MILFs' hoodie that I had put on on the way because I would be kicked out of my office if I wore that there. Of course, I had it on because it was cold too.

"No? I don't know what you're talking about."

"Was it my father? Did he send you? What's your name?"

"Joshua"

"Joshua what?"

"Just Joshua. And you?"

She did not answer.

She seemed a lot less convinced I was stalking her, though.

"Let's be friends!" she said, it was as if the independent, bold, fierce woman before me had become a 7 year old trying to make friends on the first day of 2nd grade.

My phone appeared from her hands.

My phone.

Her hands.

I patted my jacket and jeans just to find my phone was missing.

"What the fuck-"

"I'll save my number."

I stood in bewilderment. I hadn't even realized her take my phone from me.

I checked to see if all my other belongings were in place, thankfully, this mystery woman hadn't stolen anything else.

She handed me back my phone. 

I looked around once, and she disappeared.

This whole experience had me shook.

I realized this woman hadn't even told me her name, I looked down at my phone and read the name she had saved herself with.

'Skyler. Just Skyler.' I couldn't help but smile a little.

Skyler's POV

The man I had expected to be sent from the mafia, by my father, of course, I still had my suspicions, but I was pretty sure he wasn't from it.

But there was something else about him, his aura. He felt safe. He felt trustable. 

I didn't mean this in the romantic bullshit way. I felt like he wouldn't let someone down, just because of the sheer way he talked, his body language, everything about him. There was some sort of deep trauma within him, some sort of melancholy that emanated from him. I had this weird hunch like I'd never had before.

I had watched him walk away from a distance. I saw him smile, looking at his phone. It was a smile that was careful not to overstep any bounds. Overstep the boundary of letting people in, get too close. In the few moments I had spent with him, I had learnt a lot about him.