How do You Know?

It was a quiet Thursday afternoon. "I'm very sorry about the incident. A lot of things happened last night, sir. I-- I know that we've already talked about this earlier... I'm sorry for being unusual during my presentation. It won't happen again I promise... No, sir, I meant if you give me another chance it won't happen again. Please, just give me another chance. I'm-- I'm calling you from a phone booth." He blew out a sigh. "My cellphone was stolen. I really need this job. I'm begging you... I am worthless, yes! I'm begging you again! I know already begged in the office, sir! Please, understand! Don't fire me-- hello? hello?... hell--"

The air was no longer quiet. A lonely man stood inside the lonely phone booth. Although he is still young, it seemed like he had already lost count of his miserable years. The desperate man could barely hang up the black receiver with his trembling hand. But after putting it down, he grabbed the receiver once more and slammed it on the phone a couple more times until he hurt his hand. Yet he didn't care.

"I guess I'm going home." he laughed.

His apartment was far, though there was nothing he could do but walk on foot since he got robbed as well. He spent the last dimes and quarters in the phone booth hoping for a slither of chance to no avail. So with empty pockets, the sad man walked back home. Just as things couldn't get any worse, it rained. The rain was intense. The air was cold and unforgiving that he could see his breathe as he was walking. Despite being cold, he didn't care. He walked on.

When he reached the apartment, he was shivering in the hallway. Some people were staring at him. Some turned away. Everyone left the elevator when he entered. He didn't flinch. He didn't complain. He didn't care.

Eventually, he made it to his front door. He checked his answering machine afterward, but there no new message. It was still the old useless answering machine that didn't receive any voicemail. He opened his fridge and there was a couple of beer reflecting a bright shade of brown. He grabbed both and opened the TV. The broken man didn't get changed and he made the couch soaking wet. After only a couple of bottles, he was no longer sober. He didn't care.

"No more beer?" he burped. "I need more." He left his apartment and went to the rooftop. "Wait-- this isn't where you buy beer." He laughed and heckled. "Wait-- I also don't have any money!" He laughed even more accompanied with a silly dance on the rooftop. He swung his arms; he spun around; he was drunken mad. Slurring and swearing, he didn't care.

The rain had stopped eventually. He sat on the drenched concrete next to the door and kept quiet while thinking of what to do next. A few hours passed and no words out of his mouth. It was getting late, and he wouldn't move. He clammed up and he didn't care.

There was no point anymore, he thought. "I don't want to go back." he chuckled. "I don't want to go back." He uttered once more and stood up. The key jingled inside his pocket. He snapped the key inside the keyhole on the doorknob, thus cutting the way between the rooftop and the apartment. The doorknob wouldn't turn anymore. "This way, I won't be able to go back." he giggled. "Now, then... " And he rubbed his hands and slowly walked towards the edge of the building. "I don't care anymore."

He looked down, but there was hardly anyone on the street to even notice his misery. The wind was blowing him back. Yet despite the black void around him, he was too distracted from the voices of anger, regret, despair, and futility incessantly shouting from every direction.

"Let's take this to another level of not going back." he smiled. But the moment he closed his eyes, tears started trailing down his cheeks without cease. "I don't care anymore. On the count of three. One. Two... Thr--"

"Wait!" His head bobbed forward, but his body did not move. He turn his face around toward a voice that was crisp clear. "Stop! Don't you dare!"

"Dare what?" The man replied, but his voice was broken.

"Don't jump!" A figure emerged.

"Why not? My family loathes me. I don't have friends. I have a failed relationship. I lost my job today. I got robbed and I don't have any money. Tell me! Why shouldn't I jump and kill myself?! HUH!?" He yelled his confession with absolute honesty. "What's a young girl like you doing here? Shouldn't you be counting alphabets or memorizing fractions? Who are you?" The lonely man slurred.

"That's not important right now. What's important is you shouldn't kill yourself! What you're doing is wrong. It's absolutely wrong!" she said. "I'm sure you're very upset of what's happening. But if you kill yourself, how would everyone feel? Don't say that no one cares, I'm sure that there are people that care for you. There's at least one person that do! Don't say that you don't have friends. That's not true! I'm sure there are. Your family, your friends, the girl that you care for, the people you work with, everyone will be devastated when they discover that you had killed yourself that they won't forgive themselves. They care! Today was just a bad day! There's still hope to make everything better. After all, every breath is a second chance!"

"You don't know squat, young lady. No one cares."

"That's not true."

The man was coming to his senses.

This girl -- her voice was calming. I started to feel a bit of peace when she walked closer. So slowly she reached out her hand to me. "Your family will cry. Your friends will be in pain. Your girlfriend will hurt herself. Your loved ones will suffer. Your peers will be broken. Everything will be ruined along with your hopes and dreams -- and you will regret it if you jump." She said to me and held my hand.

"How do you know?" I asked as her grip became tighter.

Then the moon shone upon her face. "I know, because I jumped off from here."