Well, shit, that wasn’t awful. I mentally high-five myself.
Milo grumbles, his gaze dancing out across the murky waters. Streetlight and moonglow illuminate his haggard frame, chalky complexion, and the dark circles beneath his eyes that almost match the shade of his irises. In a swift breath, he confesses, “I killed someone.”
My insides pitch, and I freeze.
Awesome.
I’m trying to uplift a goddamn murderer.
“It wasn’t…” Milo’s head swings back and forth, his inner turmoil palpitating off of him in waves. He fists the rail with gritted teeth. “It wasn’t on purpose. I didn’t mean to.”
My throat closes up, lost for words, and I simply nod my head as I process his admission.
Milo continues, his legs quaking beneath him. “I thought I could live with it, but I can’t. I can’t do it anymore.”
I swallow. “What happened?”
“It was stupid. It was so… fuckin’ stupid.” His clammy palms squeeze the metal bar, while his chest puffs out with a tattered breath. “I lost my job last spring, and it was hell—I’ve got a kid, you know? So, my brother, he’s always getting himself into trouble, always coming up with these schemes. He said he’d help me get some cash, just a temporary thing, until I got back on my feet. I didn’t know he wanted to rob people.” Milo stops to regroup, closing his eyes tight. “But he convinced me it would be fine, easy, because he just has that way about him. Nothing is ever serious—it’s all fun and fuckin’ games.
“Until you ram your truck into some poor, innocent guy, and find out the next day that you killed him. I killed him.”
My eyebrows pinch together as I stare at Milo, an icy chill sweeping through me that even the hot August night can’t touch. Fuck.
Ominous water ripples below us, and I acknowledge the real gravity of this situation. Choices need to be made. Milo needs to decide if he’s going to hurl himself off this bridge, and I need to decide if I’m going to stop him.
This guy killed someone—accident or not, he killed a man as a consequence of doing bad, illegal shit. Maybe he deserves to meet a grisly end. Maybe the world would be a better place.
But… maybe that’s not the point.
Letting out a frazzled sigh, I tap my thumbs along the rail, trying to figure out what I’m supposed to do with this knowledge, with this impasse.
What would Melody do?
Her porcelain face and emerald eyes seize me for a wistful moment—her goodness, her heart, her empathy. She sees life through a lens made of hope and decency. She smiles through adversity. She shines in the dark. She chooses compassion over… everything.
Melody talks people off of bridges.
I don’t give myself any time to think before hoisting one leg up over the banister, my grip on the bar white-knuckled. My whole body tremors with fear, and I refuse to look down at the bleak chasm below as gasps and flashing lights from the group of spectators assault me. Police sirens sound in the distance, adding to my harrowing anxiety.
“What the fuck, man? What are you doing?”
My opposite leg follows suit, and I’m clutching the guardrail for dear life, the heels of my boots teetering off the edge of the cement ledge.
Holy fucking shit.
“Well,” I mutter, my voice hitching. I’m facing the opposite direction, chin tucked to my chest as I try to collect my bearings. “You seem pretty upset over killing a guy, so I figured you wouldn’t want another death on your hands.”
I blow out a hard breath, finding the courage to glance up at Milo. His stunned expression stares back at me, slack-jawed and bewildered.
He gapes at me. “Are you insane?”
Am I?
I’m about to shrug my shoulders, but my balance staggers at the gesture, so I just force out a strained, “Maybe.”
Since I’m facing the roadway, my eyes travel over to the large crowd of rubberneckers, likely live Tweeting and making TikTok videos as we speak.
Police officers roll in, catching Milo’s attention, and he hollers over his shoulder, “Stay the fuck back, or I’ll jump!”
My insides churn with dread. “Please don’t do that,” I say in a low voice, finding the strength to pivot myself on the overhang until I’m facing the same direction as Milo, my torso dangling forward over the bay. “If you jump, then I’ll have to jump in after you.”
“Bullshit,” he spits back. “Just leave me the hell alone. Get out of here.”
“I can’t do that. I mean, I’m already in this.” I suck in a wavering breath. “And then, what if you survive, but I drown? You’ll have to live with the responsibility of taking two lives. That would really suck.”
“Dude, you’re stressing me out. Just go.”
“What do you love?”
Milo falters, sparing me the briefest look. His chin trembles, the fear evident despite his determination to drown himself. “My son,” he croaks out. “And my brother.”
“Aren’t they enough to live for?”
“My brother’s in jail. I was driving his truck when I hit that guy—someone got the plates, and Alfie was arrested. He refused to give me up, so now he’s rotting in a jail cell all alone, even though I’m the one who killed a person.”
I bite my lip with consideration. “You could always turn yourself in.”
“I’m too chickenshit. I’d rather just end it all.”
“What about your son?” I continue, keeping the conversation going.
Keeping him distracted.
“He loses either way, but this way is better.”
“How so?”
Milo lets out a growl of protest, shaking his head. “I see what you’re doing, trying to get me to talk—to think. I’ve already made up my mind, and you can’t change that.”
Braving a glance to the depths below, I sway as a swell of queasiness claims me. I push through the fear and pull my head up to watch the stars instead. “My dad died when I was just a little kid, and it really fucked up my whole life. He didn’t off himself like you, though, which I can only imagine will add an extra layer of trauma and heartbreak for your son.” Milo remains silent, bristling at my spiel. My fingers tense, curling stiffer around the clammy metal as I continue to spout off a bunch of random shit, hoping something manages to stick. “You know, I actually wanted to die not too long ago. I wasn’t actively suicidal, but I would’ve been really damn okay if I just stopped waking up in the morning. It’s a shitty, black hole type of feeling, and I’m not sure there’s anything anyone can say to help you see through to the other side.
“I could stand here all night giving you reasons and sob stories, glimpses of hope. But only you can decide that your life is worth living. Only you can see the other side.”
He’s quiet for a long time, maybe an entire minute, and we both keep our gazes fixed straight ahead, lost in the sea of stars. Milo cranes his neck my way, his eyes reflecting a new set of emotions, something I haven’t seen yet as I turn to face him.
There’s a crack in his conviction.
“What’s on the other side?” Milo asks in a low, weary tone, his voice hardly audible over the commotion behind us and the heavy draft that coasts through.