He was making a spectacle of himself. He was already aware of that fact, but that didn’t mean he was pleased. Mallory hadn’t planned for it to be this way, yet the sirens of the police cars and gathering throng of bystanders were as real as his resolve. He silently cursed to himself.

“Step off the bridge, boy! We can talk this out!” The officer’s voice was rigid even through the megaphone’s amplification. It showed the exhaustion and uncertainty of his role. It was painfully obvious that he was inexperienced not only with children, but with matters of quietus as well. Mallory almost felt pity for him. Almost. “Please, think about what you’re doing!”

His mother wasn’t there. His mother was absent in the breakdown of her kin. Mallory knew that she was most likely unaware of his plight, crammed in her tiny office, ignorant of the lengths he was going. She would’ve had him off that bridge within ten minutes with a swift scolding and an entire speech about his stupidity. She wouldn’t have cried in that imaginative situation, so her presence wasn’t necessary anyway.

“Mallory!” However, she was there. “Mallory, please!” Wendy cried. She wept for his mother. She wept for him.

She wasn’t supposed to be there. Mallory was angry with himself because this was supposed to be a matter belonging exclusively to him, yet he allowed Wendy to involve herself. He was careless; perhaps his resolve wasn’t as firm as he initially thought.

“Don’t do this, Mallory!” Wendy’s shouting cut through the barrier of his chest. Mallory’s mother would’ve had him down within ten minutes. Wendy would have him down five. “You have so much to live for!” That was cliché. “Think of your family!” He already had, and it was nothing special. “Think of me!” It was extremely difficult for him not to given the current circumstances. “I love you!” Yes, yes. She loved him –

“What?” Mallory breathed, startled. He took a step backward inciting a gasp from the crowd below. She… loved him? The girl from his childhood, the girl he had grown up with, the girl who had always teased him about his name and pulled his hair and walked with him to the bus stop, loved him? It took the air out of his lungs as he faced her confession. She loved him.

Mallory gritted his teeth. He returned to reality, away from the sweetness and fabrication of Wendy’s statement. It was all false. He was aware they were friends, but she didn't love him. She couldn't love him. Wendy was simply feeding him sugary words to coerce him down. It was a nice gesture, but it was lost within the gloaming of the ending day.

“I don’t believe you.” Mallory didn’t raise his voice to answer Wendy, but he was heard nonetheless. He was the center of attention, after all. “I don’t believe you.” He affirmed it again. Whether the repeated words were for Wendy or himself he wasn’t sure.

The message was receive though, and it yielded a flabbergasted expression. “Mallory…” Wendy bit her lip as her face morphed into that of frustration. “How could you say that? I do love you! I love you! I love you, Mallory!”

The phrase defaced him with every repetition. Mallory couldn’t help but wonder how much time had passed since Wendy had began her plead. It was past five minutes, right? He was promptly disappointed in his previous estimation. Wendy could not get him down in five minutes. She might not be able to get him down at all. Well, down in the way that she wanted him to come.

He put too much faith in people. It was something he would’ve liked too change if he wasn’t currently hanging between life and death. He took a step forward, back to the verge of his destiny. And the bridge.

“Stop!” The officer was the one who spoke. Maybe Wendy had as well, but it was lost within the rising shrieks from the people below. “We can help you, but you have to step away from the edge first!”

Mallory defied the officer’s order. He was an infuriating boy; it was no secret. He was the type of child that aimlessly wandered around the town after dark. He was the type of child whose attendance at school waned like the moon. He was the type of child where this situation, directly disobeying authority while atop a bridge, was not unexpected.

Yet, no one ever helped him. There was never an extended hand of comfort from those wiser than him. With a mother who worked so much that she couldn’t bother with maternal duties and a missing father who left before Mallory could speak, the boy was lacking a familial structure. No teacher cared for him, simply marking another absence as they continued to foster the gifted children. The other children at school weren’t cruel, just apathetic. It was as if he didn’t exist to anyone.

He came to this revelation earlier that day. He was at school for the first time in a week, he tried to listen to the teacher’s lectures, and he tried to converse with his fellow classmates. It went smoothly. Mallory had learned new information that day about the constitution. His conversations were pleasant, if not a little short. He felt content.

He sauntered home, and he opened the door to his empty home. He threw his backpack onto the kitchen floor and smashed a wilting flower pot. Then, he got out a dust pan and cleaned up the disarray he had created so his mother wouldn’t be concerned when she returned. He went to his room and cried on his bed for a while.

Finally, he made his mistake.

“Wendy?” He spoke into the landline phone, eternally grateful that it was not shut off. His tone was soft, yet it wasn’t weak. He made sure that it was because it was not a call for help. It was simply to trade farewells. He would’ve done it in person if Wendy wasn’t a town over, most likely returning from her after school clubs.

She sounded jubilant, excited to hear from her old friend. “Mallory! What a surprise. What do you need?” Her speech was always so formal, highlighting the meticulous education she received.

Mallory swallowed hard. Wendy was extremely intelligent and perceptive; he had to be heedful with his words. “I just called to call.” She allowed a lull. “I went to school today and learned something interesting.”

“Oh, do tell me.” She laughed in good-natured.

Mallory allowed a crooked yet nervous smile to grace his face. He answered, “We’re all allowed the right for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, right?” There was an agreeable hum from Wendy. “Well, that really opened my eyes. I wasn’t really happy when you moved away.” He was trekking into a dangerous area. He could sense that Wendy was growing concerned with his speech. He tried for a lighter tone, “B-But now I found my pursuit to happiness!”

“That’s wonderful, Malloy, but… are you all right?” She weaved her way into Mallory, pulling at his heart. Are you all right? Such a simple question, yet it dug into his skin. His unraveling began, not with a jump from a high area, but from an innocent question.

“No.” He admitted. His mind with in chaos. It screamed, Please help. Help me. “No, Wendy, I’m not okay.” Help me. “I’m thinking horrible things.” Save me. “I don’t know if I’m going to make it through the day – “

“Mallory, calm down.” There was rustling on Wendy’s side. She was running. “I need you to take a deep breath. I’m coming over there; it won’t take long.”

“No!” He cried and flinched backward as if he’d been struck. “I don’t wanna see you. I just wanted to say goodbye.“

“You’re scaring me, Mallory – “

“Goodbye.”

“Mallory – “

He gently severed the conversation by flinging the phone across his room. He didn’t watch as it struck the wall; he was too busy fleeing his empty hearth. He constructed a resolution as he passed his abhorrent school. He was ready to die.

When he was atop the bridge, however, he wavered. There he was, standing at the highest point of the town, wallowing in the lowest moment of his life. He wanted to cry again, but refused.

Mallory’s resolve was strong, but Wendy’s was just stronger. She was quick, already making her way to the overpass that separated their towns, authority following closely behind her.

He was making a spectacle of himself. He was already aware of that fact, but that didn’t mean he was pleased. Mallory hadn’t planned for it to be this way, yet the sirens of the police cars and gathering throng of bystanders were as real as his resolve. He silently cursed to himself.

“Step off the bridge, boy! We can talk this out!”