1 Wrong Direction

"Wake up!"

His amber doe eyes fluttered open as he bit back the tears from the cold 3 am air nipping at his lanky frame. Nauseated, he teetered off the edge as a chill ran down his spine when he reached opted to grab the railing. Nothing. Pale lips stiffled his voiceless cry when his fingers grasped at an empty space.

He lay frozen in midair. "Wake up." a voice resonated in his ears as he opened his eyes once more to his lungs welcoming another round of black cancer into his system. Puff. 1 am. A clank resonated, reverberating in the air as the bottom of the bottle hits the table, hosting a group of self proclaimed disappointments --- both to society and themselves.

"Ah shit. All out.” quipped the drunk casually snorting Zolgensma, a 2.1 million designer drug. He casually let out a joking comment, with a lingering unspoken rule aimed at their peer. “Who's gonna rob the liquor store this time?"

"Tyler?" the group turned to him. Reminiscing in habit and in silent submission, he stood up wordlessly and opened his palm. The drunk teen from earlier chucked him a ring of keys, clattering as he caught it in his grasp, along with a wallet filled with multiple black cards.

The air was crisper outside albeit the pollution as he walked from the manor and drove outside the subdivision and into the main city. Parking before a corner store, he got out and placed his hood over unkempt hair. Hiss looks definitely didn’t match the car and judging by the unfamiliar faces, this was apparent. "Drunken waste of space." one stated to themselves, an ironic statement spat at Tyler although better to be from its own source. The man walked away but not before spitting beside the car.

Tyler sighed and rather than paying the drunk any heed, stared at the store. He huffed once and opened the car once more, steadying himself before driving off. “Those rich kids can get their own cheap booze.” he told himself speeding off as he made up his mind.

Tyler clenched the wheel as he sped up, and although he felt the inertia around him, embedding his frame to the seat behind him, he refused to peer at his speed. 'Would I even be remembered? Give four generations and no one would even know I existed. Pathetic.'

Looking up, the sight of the unfinished sky scraper loomed. 'Ditch those losers.' he thought as he parked in the parking lot. He knew it was pointless to be surrounding himself with such company and yet he found himself running back no matter what, clinging to the only group of people who cared albeit the reason be shallow.

Just as expected, there weren’t any guards nor workers at the abandoned site. As he got out and locked the vehicle, he found himself staring at the empty space, as if connecting to the building itself. In a way he did. Both filled with imperfections as the core of the structure rotted away when the rest of the world decided to give up on its worth.

Few minutes lapsed and he was up the top in no time. He took a seat on a ledge near a broken machinery and dangled his legs. He let the keys loose in his pocket , replacing it as he fished for his phone to text his aunt.

His fingers typed with no hesitation and for the first time in quite a while, he had confidence in his actions. "I'm going to commit suicide in three hours." He sent. His mind was made up. If he was going to die at least make someone happy about it. That woman would probably fake her tears at his funeral if he had one while secretly beaming at how the “cursed bastard of a child” was finally out of her hair.

The screen popped a message in reply. "Hey, what? Are you okay? Who is this?"

Well this wasn’t what he had expected. He had a thousand responses running through his head, even one where she wouldn’t respond at all but this wasn’t one of them.

His eyes widened a fraction as he fought the urge to plant his face unto the flat side of his hand. "Sorry.” was all he replied, seeing the mistyped last digit of the contact and sent it to whoever this unfortunate person was. “You can just delete this if you want." Great. Rather than causing elation, another mistake just had to be made on top of the countless ones he had committed beforehand which now meant he was going to linger in the conscience of whoever it had been sent to.

The stranger immediately replied. "I don't think I should. Are you okay?"

Maybe this goody two shoes born in a loving family lacked some common sense… or was he giving a scripted response because it is what society had threaded into their brains? He found himself lacing his words in hate as his fingers tapped another response. "I don't think an 'okay' person would wanna off themselves." This person must have been one of those who had it great their whole lives, loved by all and is experiencing the best in life. He felt hatred. Not for the person specifically but by how fate decided to take amusement at his cards and just had to cross his with this person.

"Tell me your name. We have the same area code so you must be near."

Tyler stared at the screen. Is this person for real?

"That doesn't matter. I'm gonna be dead soon." he said to himself.

Another message popped up. "I asked for your name not your depression buddy. As cliche as this is, you shouldn't kill yourself"

He paused for a bit. The nerve of this person to dictate what should and shouldn’t be from a mere one-sided point of view. To this he replied, "You should worry about yourself instead and just delete the message. Forget this conversation

ever existed."

"True. I could do that and spare myself the effort but I'm not the suicidal one so I have room to worry for others."

He found himself staring at the message. It was pointless to keep on replying only to be volleyed with witty remarks. The

more he does, the more he would be embedding himself in to this person’s memory, which on the contrary is the last thing he wanted. He sighed and turned the phone over, placing it beside him to ignored it. The message didn’t need a reply anyways but was rather a line thrown to him as to whether he wanted to resume conversing or to simply fade as he had intended. Time passed without exchanges until another beep emanated from the device.

"So.. are you still there?"

‘And here I thought it would be one of those rich, trust fund addicts looking for their cheap booze.' he thought.

The stranger was persistent. He had to applaud them for that. Maybe if he scared them enough, they’d let him be. " I'm thinking of ways to kill myself. Overdose? Gunshot? " Tyler replied reluctantly. "That's not smart." the stranger typed.

"What if I don't want you to die?"

Tyler snapped. He had enough. This person barely knew him and yet wanted to rob him of his escape? Gritting his teeth, he stood and pressed call. The line clicked within a few rings and Tyler let loose without waiting for a greeting or anything from the person who picked up.

"It's not really up to whoever you are now is it?! And besides, if you knew me now at 24, you too would want me dead. Just leave me alone already and forget these exchanges. " Tyler growled.

"24 is too young to die. You’re not being fair; to other and yourself. People want to live past 70 and you on the other hand--- " a voice said softly, contrasting the sassy tone Tyler had characterized it as in his head. He disregarded the new found fact and let his mouth utter a reply.

"Life isn’t fair but this is completely fair to me. It's my choice to do whatever with my smoking alcoholic juvenile delinquent life... Or the hour that's left of it."

The stranger sighed and audibly clenched their teeth in reply. "Listen here. If I could trade my dying ass for your sorry excuse I'd do it any day because I on the other hand want to live!" The boy’s voice shook on the other line, evidently tired of his point not getting across. There was a pregnant pause as Tyler found his voice refusing to be dislodged in his throat.

The boy’s heart race quickened a fraction from it but found comfort in the ambience noise on the other end, signaling the call to still be in progress. The other line crackled as if about to end when the boy spoke again. "Please don't die... I don't want another suicide on my conscience. Please..."

Tyler grew dead silent. He still couldn’t find the right words to covey whatever-- no scratch that. His mind, previously running on fury and confusion who’s only goal was to spite the receiver, now was a blank slate, as if everything had been wiped from a single statement. The voice on the other line was filled with so much desperation; one he could say mirrored his for an escape.

"Funny. The unfortunate wrong number you texted is dying of stage 4 pancreatic cancer." the stranger forced an ironic laugh. As if reading Tyler’s confusion, the stranger explained. "And... if your wondering who’s death you’re adding up to --- It was my sister, Sophie.” Tyler’s breath hitched before deciding to sit back down on the ledge and hear what the stranger had on his mind. He could at least humor them. He was good at that at least --- humoring people and letting them vent out as he just sucked it in like a dry sponge. It was even how he had been involved with the group back at the manor; a group which in a way found escape in exploring his side of the world far from riches and social images.

“She overdosed and slit both her wrists and neck but was conscious enough to suffer. Please... Think about your family you're leaving behind."

Tyler sat down and felt a cold drop on his cheek. Family? "They couldn't care less."

There was another long silence and muffled sobs on each line. Guilt flooded his conscience feeling how small and insignificant he was before suddenly remembering times he had cherished. The days without anything bugging his mind or the voices constantly telling him he was a sham of a person. "Hey. Don't be sad. I'll be happier this way than if I continued living.” he breathed out in an almost laugh like manner, “It's driving me crazy living this way. Thanks for trying to save me but..."

"Wait. I know it seems like you have already made up your mind but before you go at least tell me where you are.” Tyler hesitated. The person had really been holding on huh? Hoping that they could save him? For all the sudden issues he had dropped unto them it was the least he could do, right?

“Please..."

"The skyscraper under construction on fifth lane. I’m at the top. "

"If I can get there in ten minutes, you have to live for me, okay?" desperation was evident on the other end and though they fought it back, it seeped through. It was like trying to plug a pressurized water hose with cotton.

The call ended abruptly. 2:51 am.

Tyler's stared at his phone in confusion from the unusual exchange he had just gotten involved in. It had been quite a while since he had contact with the group and yet it was evident they would rather indulge in the ecstasy of momentarily parting with a sober mind than to check on him. He laughed softly. Of course, what had he expected? The car could crash and burn and they wouldn’t bat an eye as it was replaceable. Just like he was.

"The warmth of a mother's hug would be void to me as the asphalt kisses my skin now would it?"

The screen flashed.

2:58 am

"I'm at the intersection.

- Alastor"

“Alastor. So he has a name.” Time ticked by and seeing as Alastor was closing their distance he decided to stand up. The sudden movement hit hi body like a wave causing his head to spin. With eyes widened and a desperate plea, his quivering palms reached for the rails when he could no longer feel the beam beneath him.

Regret washed over him like an ice cold bath. He hadn't even gotten the chance to meet Alastor; the stranger who albeit being such, has shown him the kind of compassion that even his own mother couldn't. He hadn't met the only person who’s desperation was a percussive element to care for his life within that short span of time.

His dark thick hair whipped across his soft features as the wind roared in his ears. The phone rang one last time. He picked it up knowing it would’ve been the last time they spoke. "I'm here. Left road, right? Where are you?" Alastor said.

Tyler smiled bitterly, accepting the fate he had put unto himself in the first place. The building he was contemplating to jump was at the right side of the intersection. Meeting the man wouldn't change it anyways. It wasn't gonna change his decision right? Right?! Then why does he seem to regret everything at the moment when he finally got what he wanted.

No. He wanted to live, now more than ever.

He answered with a last shaky breath as the ground drew nearer and the oxygen left his body, weightless in free fall. "Wrong direc---"

"Wake up!" His own voice resonated in his head, screaming.

His eyes opened. "I'm sorry..." he said involuntarily. Clank, the sound of a bottle not his hits once more. Puff, wafts a smoke breathed by another.

"Don't tell me you're hung from a pinch of Zolgensma." a peer scoffed. He froze as he checked his phone. 1:22 am. He bolted out of the manor as his peers called out after him.

The cold 1 am air outside nipped at his still lanky frame as he bit back moisture trickling down his cheeks. This time though he wasn't headed to rob liquor or jump at a construction site. No, he was headed out to live.

"Live." the wind whispered.

He muttered the stranger's name, fumbling for his phone to call the stranger only to find himself confused and disappointed to see the screen void of messages, calls and conversations that never existed.