The moon hangs high over the river. Full. Bright. Casting silver light across the water's surface. Stars scatter across the sky like broken glass. Twinkling. Distant.
Jack stands at the parapet of the bridge. The same bridge he jumped from over a year and a half from today ago. The night air is cool. Crisp. It carries the smell of the river. Mud. Algae. The faint chemical tang of industrial runoff.
He brings the cigar to his lips. Takes a slow drag. The ember glows orange in the darkness. He exhales. Smoke curls into the air. Drifts away on the breeze.
This is where it started. Right here. One hundred feet above the water. One hundred feet above the rocks. He'd jumped. Survived. Was dragged out of the river bleeding and broken. And everything changed.
Jack looks down at the water. Dark. Moving. Reflecting the moonlight in ripples. He takes another drag of the cigar. How simple times were then. He almost laughs at the thought.
He'd tried to kill himself because his wife left him. A whore of a wife who never loved him. Who used him. Manipulated him. And he'd been so devastated he wanted to die. Pathetic. How silly it feels now. How simple he was.
Bella was the ray of light at the end of the tunnel. The hope that he'd one day recover. She was an amazing woman. Is an amazing woman. Too good for him. For the world he's creating. He never thought end up here.
But he was controlled by emotions. By feelings. Rage. Love. Happiness. Despair. All of it pulling him in different directions. Making him reckless. Impulsive.
Jack blows smoke into the night. How long has it been since I felt anything? Since he's been numb? Love had led him here. To this bridge. To that jump. Rage had turned him into a monster. A king. Someone even mobs feared.
But he'd learned something from his experience. Something important. Fear is not enough. No empire ruled on fear has ever survived long. History proves it. Over and over. Fear creates enemies. Resentment. Rebellion. Fear makes men desperate. And desperate men do desperate things.
Jack needs a new foundation. A new strategy. Fear is still necessary. It's what he's good at. What he knows. But he needs something else. Something...
He pauses mid-thought. Movement catches his eye. On the far side of the bridge. Near the Getterburg Hospital. A woman. She's standing at the parapet. Staring down at the water.
Jack narrows his eyes. Even from this distance, he can see she's young. Early twenties, maybe. Her hair is pulled up in a messy bun. Reddish-brown. Loose strands fall around her face. She's wearing jeans. A sweater. Nothing fancy. But even in her disheveled state, there's something striking about her. Youthful. Delicate.
Jack wonders if she's a college student. Someone from the hospital, maybe. A nurse. A visitor. Then she climbs onto the parapet. Jack's hand stops halfway to his mouth. The cigar burns between his fingers. He watches.
***
Sarah's hands grip the cold metal railing. Her palms are sweaty despite the cool air. She pulls herself up. One leg. Then the other. The parapet is narrow. Maybe six inches wide. She stands. Wobbles slightly. Her heart pounds in her chest.
Don't look down. She looks down. The water is far below. Dark. Moving. Sarah has always been afraid of heights. But for some reason, the fall doesn't look so scary right now. She puts her arms out. Balances. Then she starts walking. Slowly. Like it's a balance beam. One foot in front of the other. She treats it like a dance. She's good that--dancing--maybe it's the ony thing shes's good at.
She wobbles. Her arms flail. For a second, she almost falls. Her stomach lurches. But she catches herself. Steadies. What would happen if I fell? Would she die? Or would she just be crippled? Broken? In pain for months? Who would care?Who would even notice?
Her mother is in the hospital. Dying. Slowly. David is gone. Taken by that woman. That monster. Sarah has no job. No money. No home. She stops walking. The wind picks up. It tugs at her hair. Her clothes.
I could do it.I could just... let go. But she can't. Not yet. Her mom is still here. Still breathing. Sarah can't leave her on this earth all alone. She takes a breath. Steadies herself. Then a voice behind her makes her jump.
"If you're going to jump, do it headfirst."
Sarah's arms flail. Her foot slips. For a terrifying second, she's falling. But she catches the railing. Pulls herself back. Her heart is hammering. She turns.
A man is standing a few feet away. Maybe in his mid or early thirties. Tall. Broad-shouldered. He's holding a cigar. Smoke drifts from his mouth.
"If you go feet first, you'll just be crippled for a few months."
Sarah's breath is shaky. She climbs down from the parapet.
"I wasn't going to jump."
Her voice is defensive. Embarrassed.
"I just wanted some fresh air."
The man scoffs.
"There's plenty of fresh air on the ground."
Sarah rolls her eyes.
"Mind your own business."
But then she looks up. Really looks at him. The scars. The foggy eye. The sharp, brutal features. Her breath catches.
Oh my god. It's him. The man from the orgy. The one who saved her. Sarah's mouth opens. She tries to speak. But the words won't come. She stammers. Her cheeks flush.
The man scoffs.
"That's a normal reaction to my appearance."
Sarah shakes her head quickly.
"No. That's not—"
She swallows hard.
"Do you remember me?"
The man raises an eyebrow. Sarah's face burns.
"The girl from the... the..."
She can't say it. Can't force the word out. Orgy.
The man takes a drag of his cigar. Blows the smoke out slowly. The wind pushes it into her face. She coughs.
"The girl from the orgy."
Sarah's eyes widen.
"You remembered?"
The man shrugs.
"Not at first. But as I got closer, you started to look familiar."
He pauses.
"It's not every day a man gets to meet a woman as striking as you."
Another pause.
"And naked. Even if she was getting fucked by two men."
Sarah's cheeks go red. Hot. She looks down at her feet. The man laughs. Not cruelly. Just... amused.
"It's nothing to be embarrassed about. I've had my fair share of embarrassing moments too."
Sarah doesn't respond. She doesn't know what to say. The man walks to the parapet. Leans against it. He looks out over the water. Takes another drag of his cigar.
"What were you doing out here? Balancing on a parapet?"
Sarah crosses her arms.
"I told you. I was getting fresh air."
The man shakes his head.
"No one climbs on that parapet unless they're thinking of killing themselves."
The bluntness catches Sarah off guard. She takes a step back.
"What? How would you know?"
The man doesn't answer. He's looking at her hand now. Her left hand. Then at her face. He scoffs. Not mockingly, but rather as if a realization just hit.
"Let me guess. The husband cheated on you and left you. And now you're sad and lonely and have nothing left to live for."
Sarah's eyes go wide. How did he—
"How did you know?"
The man gestures toward her hand.
"You had a ring on your finger when I last saw you."
He nods toward her bare ring finger.
"Now it's barren."
Sarah stares at him. She's impressed. And unsettled.
"How did you remember all of that?"
The man taps the side of his face. Near his foggy eye.
"When you have only one good eye, you tend to look twice as hard at your surroundings."
Sarah's throat tightens.
"I have two good eyes. And I still couldn't see him being taken from me."
The man looks at her for a long moment. Then he holds out the cigar.
"You look like you need this more than me."
Sarah hesitates. Then she takes it.
"I've never smoked before."
The man chuckles.
"What an Innocent dove."
He shows her how. How to hold it. How to inhale. Sarah brings it to her lips. Takes a drag. Immediately, she starts coughing. Her eyes water. Her throat burns.
The man pats her head gently.
"It'll get easier. Just like your life." He pauses. "A divorce is nothing to kill yourself over."
If only that were the worst of my problems, Sarah thinks.
The first drops of rain start to fall. The man looks up at the sky. Sighs.
"Fits the mood."
He takes off his jacket. Drapes it over Sarah's shoulders. It's huge on her. Like a blanket. Warm. Heavy. Sarah looks up at him. God, he's big. Tall. Muscular. Broad. But she also notices the scars. The tattoos running down his arms and up his neck. Is he a gangster? He was so nice to her. How could he be a gangster and such a nice guy?
The man plucks the cigar from her fingers. Flicks it into the river.
"Well," he says. "It was nice meeting you, again. Maybe we'll meet again."
He walks past her. Then his hand comes down hard on her ass. Smack.
Sarah jumps. Spins around.
"Hey!"
The man looks at his hand. Then at her.
"Very tender." He smirks. "Couldn't help myself. Consider it payment for the jacket."
Sarah touches where he smacked her. It still tingles. But for some reason she can't be mad.
The rain starts to fall harder. Sarah pulls the jacket over her head and runs after him.
"Hey! Hey!"
The man stops. Turns. He looks confused. Sarah catches up to him. Breathing hard.
"I don't have a place to stay tonight."
The man blinks.
"How is that my problem?"
Sarah presses her lips together.
"I was wondering if... uhh..."
She can't finish.
"You want me to bring you to my place?"
Sarah nods weakly.
The man raises an eyebrow.
"You don't have a home?"
Sarah looks down.
"I'd rather not go there."
David is there. She'll have nightmares if she has to sleep in that house. Nightmares of all the good days. The simple days. The picture of him sucking Leena's pussy flashes in her mind. Sarah swallows hard.
The man is quiet for a moment. Then he speaks.
"If I take you to my house, I'll have to fuck you."
Sarah's eyes widen.
"I'm not very good at holding myself back. Not in my current state."
Sarah steps back. Definitely a gangster. Was all that kindness just a ruse? To get in her pants? Despicable.
"Never mind." She reaches into her pocket. Pulls out her wallet. "I'll just get a hotel."
She opens the wallet. Empty. No cash. She pulls out her card. Tries to remember the balance. Then she remembers. David froze it. Her stomach sinks.
The man is watching her. Rain dripping down his face. He sighs. He looks into her empty wallet, then at the way her face loses hope. He sighs.
"Fine. Come with me."
Sarah doesn't move.
"I'd rather—"
"I'm not going to touch you." His tone is tired. Flat. "Just follow me."
Sarah hesitates. Then she follows. They walk in silence. The rain falls harder. Sarah pulls the jacket tighter around her shoulders.
"Why are you being so nice to me?"
The man doesn't answer right away. He's quiet for a long moment. Then he speaks.
"You remind me of someone I used to know."
Sarah looks up at him.
"Someone you used to know?"
"Yes."
"What happened to them?"
The man stops walking. He looks back at the bridge. At the dark water below.
"He jumped off that bridge."
Sarah's breath catches.
"Oh."
She doesn't know what else to say.
The man turns and keeps walking. Sarah follows. The rain falls. The city is quiet. And somewhere in the distance, the river keeps moving.
"What's your name," the man asked.
"Sarah."
"I'm Jack."