Doodlebug

Trigger warning: depictions of suicide

The bridge was deserted, which was odd, considering it was nearly two in the morning on a Friday night. Darcy watched as several stars blinked away in the sky. She swayed on her feet and gripped the railing to keep her balance. The opening chords of Green Day's American Idiot shattered the silent calm. Hand shaking, she pulled her phone from her pocket and answered the incoming call.

"Hello? Static crackled in her ear while she waited for a response. The obnoxiously loud voice of her drunk brother was barely heard over the rushing of the river below her.

"Doodlebug!" Her heart twinged; Michael hadn't called her that since they were children. "Where are you? I want my favourite little sister to play ping-pong with me!"

She laughed, an empty broken thing that sounded far too loud for her sombre mood. "I'm your only little sister, Mike." The hollowness in her voice made her wince. She hoped that he didn't recognize it for what it was. Staring at the crashing water some 40 feet in the air, Darcy listened as her brother called out for someone on the other line by the name of Luke.

Figures, she thought. He calls me and I'm still the second choice. Her foot slid on the wet metal of the bridge's edge. I'm always the second choice. Knuckles white from the tightness of her grip, she forced herself to take a deep breath. She was so sick of being everyone's second choice; her mother picked Michael over her, Michael picked his friends and alcohol over her, and her friends . . . well, they were only there when they needed something from her, so they didn't count, did they?

Rain splattered gently against her forehead. "Darcy?" She jumped with a yelp, forgetting that Michael was still on the phone with her. "Where are you?" The concern lace through her brother's voice confused her.

"Taking a walk over the bridge," she answered absently. The lie slipped from her tongue far too easily for her liking. "Why?" She heard a mumbled curse, then the jangle of keys being tossed through the air. The sound of running was loud in her ear. A car door slammed shut. A motor revved, and her foot slid on the edge again.

"Stay there, Darcy," ordered Michael. "Don't do anything stupid." Her hand was beginning to ache. What did he mean, don't do anything stupid? It's not like he cared, anyway. The river roared beneath her. Its spray soaked her shoes and she wobbled.

"Darcy!" There was panic in Michael's voice that didn't register in her mind. Why was he panicking? She hummed, but it was too quiet for Michael to hear over the engine and static. Headlights flooded her silhouette. A quick glance told her that no on even bothered to try and get her off the edge of the bridge. I was right, she thought. No one cares. "Dammit, Darce! answer me!" She jumped, nearly losing her balance.

"What? I'm fine." The contempt in her voice shocked her. A soft, pained sigh on the other end caught her attention. Several moments of silence passed; the river still roared and the rain beat a steady rhythm against her back. Please call me out on my lie, she begged in her head.

"No, you're not." The air in her lungs suddenly stung like a thousand bees had swarmed her. "You're not fine," Michael gently chided her. "Just stay on the line with me, I'm coming to get you." A motor revved once more.

She tried to say something - anything - that would ease Michael's undeserved panic. No words came forward. So she kept listening to the static sound of her erratic breathing and Michael's rambling stories. Darcy knew that her brother's words were an attempt to keep her on the bridge and out of the swirling disaster below her, but it brought some comfort to hear the stories she'd long forgotten.

"Hey, Darcy?" The sudden question brought her crashing down to Earth in the form of a gasp and tightening fingers. A strangled sound left her. "Woah, hey, it's okay. Just me. I'm on my way to get you. I just had a question for you." Mollified by Michael's quiet voice, she drew in a ragged breath and forced herself to stop shaking.

"Yeah?" Her voice seemed too loud for the night. Michael laughed, a breathless sort of chuckle that reminded her of when the were kids and spent days in the public pool, splashing at each other. When had those days become memories? When had she become so desperate for that happiness that she was standing on a bridge, ready to jump off?

"Are you at the bridge that I think you're at?" She leaned back, and squinted into the distance. Two specks of light swerved and danced in the dark. Darcy giggled, bright and soft.

"I can see you, I think." Rain came down in sheets, thoroughly soaking her. Laughter floated in her ears and she smiled. It had been a while since she'd heard Michael's real laugh. She tried to say something - anything - to make him laugh again, but she couldn't think. Her breath came in short pants and choked gasps.

"Darcy, calm down for me, yeah?" Michael's voice was tranquil and smooth, a stark contrast to her mind's frantic words. Pathetic. Just jump already. No on wants you and no one ever will. She screamed, trying to get the words to stop. The headlights poured a soft white glow over her.

"I love you, Mikey," she whispered to the rain. She wanted him to know that, no matter what, she loved him more than anything. The squeal of tires broke her from her revery. Shouts from the car unsettled her, and she watched as the car came closer. The comforting static in her ears died. Screeching metal seemed to take over and the car slammed into her, sending them over the railing.

Just before she hit the water, she glanced at the sky. It was no longer storming, but full of winking stars that watched over the dying siblings as they sank beneath the river.