The Last Wish

01. The Midnight Guest

"What feels like the end is often the beginning"

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On the count of 3...2...1

This is it, Matt thought.

His eyes closed, feet lifted off the floor with his supposed last breath.

"Are you going to jump?" slurred a feminine voice.

Startled, his head snapped towards the owner of the voice.

His expectation of confronting a female cop or perhaps a stripper was futile before the girl, sitting cross-legged on the railing balancing a bottle of scotch on her right palm while the other grasped the railing tightly.

It was an anomaly to find a random young girl roaming the street of California at the witching hour, let alone drunk.

He looked the girl direct in the eyes, "no, I was planning on bungee jumping. Wanna join?"

"If you ask me, bungee jumping verges on insanity," she said, her forefinger tapping her cheek in deep thought. "Are you insane?"

He didn't show any emotions, just continued gaping at the insane girl, who apparently called him insane.

"Besides I have acrophobia, so no thank you," she grinned. "Wait! You were kidding, right? Course he was, silly girl." She started giggling non stop.

"Sorry for the interruption. Please carry on," she blabbered gulping the remaining beer.

Ignoring her, he closed his eyes and took one last breath before plunging-

"In reality, I don't talk so much you know. It's the beer that's doing the talking. I jabber jabber like- wait! Goodness, I've never been drunk and I already know its side effect," she continued her blather.

"Will you shut up?" he snapped.

"Oops sorry. I swear by the Lord above I shall not utter another word. I swear," she zipped her mouth with an imaginary key and threw it to the river.

Muttering profanities he closed his eyes again, his feet partially rooted to the railing.

"Don't you think it's cold? I'm shivering."

He opened his eyes, startled by her inane question.

Her voice was a nuisance to the placid atmosphere in the bridge, with the exception of the occasional whiff of vehicles speeding past them, who had either unnoticed or turned a blind eye to the two of them.

"Like don't you think it's too cold but when you wear the co--," she stopped mid sentence when she realised his cold piercing eyes looked at hers with a murderous glare. It was enough to shut her up.

"What the fuck do you want?" he barked at her.

She shrugged sheepishly, "another bottle maybe".

He sighed in exasperation, pretending to ignore the voices hauntingly chanting: even death rejects you.

He felt obsolete, like worn-out furniture unable to even meet the demands of being antiquated in a thrift shop. Disowned by life, rejected by the inevitable.

He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth, the urge to punch something was increasing. He did have a flashy temper, which was despised by a particular someone he wouldn't turn a blind eye to.

He couldn't understand the reason why he wasn't dead yet.

"Are you planning to jump or sulk your life out?" she asked.