Demons

The wind blew against my bear arms and face. My feet were cold and my hair blew passed my shoulders. My once hectic and dark mind was now clear and blank. I thought of nothing as I stood there. I drowned out the noise behind me. The blaring honking horns and people yelling about the traffic. I wanted to be as peaceful as I could. I tried to smile, but the muscles in my face hurt too much. I hadn’t smiled in ages. I cried.

I cried every day and night. I curled myself up into a little ball and thought of my future. I saw nothing but pain and agony. Where would I be in five years, in ten? Would I be homeless and living on the streets? Or would I be long gone from the horrid world that seemed to throw every single obstacle it could at me. Honestly, the latter seemed better.

The world was cruel. All the fingers pointed at me. All the accusations that weren’t true. It hurt.

It hurt to know that I was being judged by people that didn’t even know me—that didn’t even know the real situation.

But, that’s how people were. That’s how humans are.

We are all monsters. We are all demons. We are all something that we never thought we were.

Too bad for me, I found that out sooner than most people.

At the young age of twenty, I stood at the edge of a bridge with roaring waters mocking me hundreds of feet below. I wore only a worn t-shirt and leggings. I decided to leave my shoes behind. I would leave one more imprint before I finally left. I had never felt so sure about this.

I wanted to end my own life. I wanted to lose to my inner demons and end this useless life of mine. I would be no use to the world or anyone anyway. This . . . this was my true calling. I would suffer no more pain. I would cry no more tears. And, my heart would no longer have hope. Days, it took me days to make that final decision of ending my life. I cried over it, and I waited for it.

For some reason, deep down I had hoped that someone would come into my life and save me, but that was too good to be true. I was an idiot for thinking that way—or at least, I had thought so.

I took in what I thought would be my last breath. There were hundreds of people on this bridge, but no one was going to stop me. That’s how cruel everyone was. Or maybe they thought that I wasn’t going to end my life. I didn’t know. I couldn’t see into their brains and hearts. Maybe, I didn’t want to.

I clenched my fists. The wind blew again, reminding me where I was. I closed my eyes and began to fall forwards.

Everything went black.

My back hurt and so did my elbows. I slowly opened my eyes and saw the bridge before me. Something warm was wrapped around my shoulders. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. I looked at my bear feet that were getting more and more cold. They almost felt frozen. Although pain shot throughout my entire body, I couldn’t cry out in pain or wince. I just sat there in a daze.

I looked out at the bridge again. Slowly, the noises around me came back to me. I could hear the honking horns and people yelling again—along with a deep and foreign voice.

“Are you crazy?” a man yelled.

I slowly cranked my head up to the right. It wasn’t until now that I realized that a man was kneeling down next to me. He fixed the cloth around my shoulders. I looked down and back at him. He had given me his black dress coat. His white dress shirt was slightly stained with blood.

“What were you thinking?” he yelled again, this time waving his hands in the air.

I blinked at him. As though that would give him an answer.

“Are you going to answer me?” he asked a bit more kindly.

Again, I blinked.

I tried to form words with my mouth, but it felt like I hadn’t spoken in ages. My lips were chapped, and my throat was dry.

“What is your name?” he asked, finally calmed down. His dark brown eyes seemed warm and caring, but I couldn’t be fooled.

But, like always, I gave in.

And, I’m glad that I did.

I almost committed suicide and thought no one would care, but someone did.

I rebuilt my life and found courage to stand up to my demons.

I began to smile and even fell in love.

My heart was no longer full of scars.

I was a positive person.

And now, at the age of twenty-seven, I stood before a young girl that stood on the very same bridge that I stood on seven years before. Her long dark brown hair flowed in the wind. Her hands were clenched and her shoes were off. She began leaning forwards, and before I knew it we were both on the concrete ground as I yelled at her.

We go through hardships. We fight them and beat them. And when we see other people suffer from them, mustn’t we help them fight?