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A body on the bridge

maybe you miscommunicated and it turned back on you

By Caitlin CharltonPublished 2 years ago • 3 min read
Top Story - September 2024
A body on the bridge
Photo by Lewis Purcell on Unsplash

Lexi chose to come to the bridge where the body parts were found. Her coming was not connected to that poor soul, neither was she concerned about who did it and why. She was tired of her life and all the expectations that hung over her head.

She believed she was stuck in a body that had a mind of its own, it got sick when she wanted to be productive; it had weird aches and pains and would get fatigued for what seemed to be no reason. The deep hum of the cars being so near meant that she was still alive although she felt nothing, starting to realise where her decision would lead her, she pulled out her phone to take one last look at her soon to be fiancée - but soon to be not.

As she looked at her phone, she sat on the bridge to position her legs to dangle over the edge.

‘ Mommy what’s that lady doing?’ A child asked with a high pitched voice sounding a little more curious than concerned.

Lexi felt painfully naked and inconvenienced in every way but a forced smile gave the mother false reassurance, a temporary bond was formed.

‘Are you alright, do you need a lift?’ The mother interrogated, sounding stern and worriedly motherly. Her eyes dropped from Lexi back to her son, calmly soothing him. She knew not to draw too much attention to lexis position, she didn’t want to make the wrong move.

‘I really don’t want to bother you and your son mam, it’s really kind though… I mean, of you to stop.’ Lexi worked her way around to where it was safe and folded her arms but not because she was upset or uncomfortable anymore than she was when the child spoke, she wanted to free the mother of any attachment to her that would drive her to stay.

‘My son don’t notice just anyone, sure he’s a kid but he’s never gone out of his way to ask. If there’s anything troubling you, please I would like to know.’ The mother took a glance in the rear view mirror, and noticing no one there she told Lexi she would look for a parking spot when she reverse off the bridge and then they could talk.

It was a clever way to trap her in her thoughts, leaving Lexi before she could respond meant that there was a slight chance she would follow her, or hopefully give her time to rethink her decision.

When she was out of sight Lexi rolled her eyes and walked towards the reversing car. At this point it was getting dark and a little cold and lexi was not prepared, making her a little worried that she would be tempted by the warmth and coziness of the ladies car and the child’s pokemon blanket.

Why am I doing this, I don’t have any obligation to go to them so why are my legs moving? She reflected, removing one arm from around her body to pull her hair behind her ear and realising it was an awkward move she removed the other arm from her body and sighed.

Now, they were seated on the grass on a hill overlooking the bridge. Neither one of them knew why this was a better idea than sitting in the car, but it seemed to be getting Lexi to talk so the mother didn’t mind when the chill took to her as she zipped her zipper the rest of the way.

‘I guess I just need someone…’ she started.

‘Are you living with relatives?’ With her arms around her and the son occupied with her phone, she was able to give Lexi her full attention and it comforted her deeper than her legs dangling over the edge of the bridge.

‘I… I got engaged 3 weeks ago, so…’ she said while her eyes fell from where she was glancing at the bridge. But when Lexi thought the mother would add to her words, nothing came and she was forced to take over the silence.

‘Why does everyone expect so much from me?’

‘What is your name?’

‘Alex, but everyone prefers to call me Lexi’

‘Okay Alex, you seem like a quiet girl and you give a lot and rarely ever ask for help, maybe you miscommunicated and it turned back on you. It’s not your fault. Everyone has their own struggles to carry and sometimes they need a little help from you, a bit of clear communication. But don’t take that literally, be respectful.’

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About the Creator

Caitlin Charlton

Writer first. Close reader and self‑taught critic shaping eloquence.

A survivor reclaiming her territory.

I write dark fiction and poetry through symbol, shadow, and fracture.

Always sharpening the craft. ✏️🔥👠

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    Written by Caitlin Charlton