This was a dark time. The sky had long surrendered its light, and the night had already spread his darkness like a thick blanket over the world. It was the kind of night where even the stars seemed to have abandoned their posts, hiding behind the thick layers of sorrow-soaked clouds. The wind whispered through the trees with a cold breath, and in the middle of this stillness, a man stood alone on the bridge of River Land. His figure was barely visible under the dim glow of a flickering streetlight, but his sorrow shone brighter than anything else in that moment.
He stood at the edge of the bridge, his shoes dangerously close to the rusted railing, his body tense, as if struggling between two choices—one that ended everything, and one that led nowhere. His eyes, full of despair, brimmed with tears. They fell silently, tracing the path of countless other tears that had already carved their way down his cheeks. His clothes were soaked, clinging to his trembling frame, but it wasn't the rain that weighed him down—it was something much heavier. A lifetime of pain, regrets, and the unbearable loneliness of feeling invisible in a world that never really cared.
He had decided. He was committing the suicide. Maybe it was impulsive, maybe it had been planned for days. But now—he was here. Ready to fall. Ready to let go. Ready to disappear into the freezing river that flowed beneath, ready to silence everything inside him. He took a deep breath. One step forward and it would all be over.
But just before he could make that final move, a strange feeling crawled across his spine. He sensed someone. Someone was standing behind him. It wasn't loud. It wasn't even clear. But it was undeniable. Like a shadow in the corner of your vision, like the cold breath of fate brushing past your neck. He turned quickly, his pulse racing.
There was a man behind him. Silent. Still. Tall. Drenched from the rain, and approaching slowly. His face was hidden under the hood of a dark coat, but what caught the boy's eye… was what the man held in his hand. A hammer. Heavy, metallic, sharp. It glinted faintly under the weak light, and for a moment, the boy's heart jumped in his chest—not because he feared death, but because he feared pain.
"Don't come near me!" he shouted, panic flashing across his face. "I'll jump off!" His voice shook, caught between a cry for help and a desperate warning. He was already standing on the railing now, both feet barely holding their place, arms out slightly for balance, like he was on a tightrope between life and death. The man with the hammer didn't respond. He simply kept walking—step by step—closing the distance between them.
The boy's breath caught in his throat. He could feel the river below calling to him, roaring with cold indifference. But the sound of the man's footsteps felt louder. More dangerous. He looked again at the hammer, then back at the stranger's face. Still nothing. No expression. No voice. Just approaching silence. The boy's fear surged. "Please… don't… kill me," he whispered, his voice cracking with genuine terror now. "I… I will jump off…"
The fear of death was no longer abstract. It was real. It was painted across his face—his wide, trembling eyes, his clenched jaw, his fingers gripping the railing like it was the last thing tethering him to earth. But even in that fear, he didn't move back. He didn't run. Because a part of him had already made the choice. And now, he only needed the push.
The man took another step forward. The boy flinched. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. But nothing came out anymore. Only silence. And rain. And the hammer gleaming like a silent threat.
Time felt slow.
The boy stared at the man one last time. Maybe he hoped for words. A reason to stay. A hand to pull him back.
But the man said nothing.
And the boy… let go.
His feet left the railing. His body leaned forward into the air. Arms open. Chest first. He didn't look back. He didn't scream. He simply fell. The wind rushed past him, fast and cold, and in that one second of falling—everything felt still. Quiet.
Then—impact.
The river below swallowed him whole.
A splash echoed into the night, loud and final. Then silence again. Nothing rose. No sound. Just the restless river, flowing on like it always had.
The man with the hammer stood still on the bridge, staring at the space where the boy had stood just moments ago. Rain continued to fall. The world didn't pause. Nothing changed. Except… one life was now gone.
And no one else was there to see it.