Obsessed Shadow

A cold breeze fills the air, the clouds growing lighter as night slowly sweeps away. Aaira reaches out for the railing, her eyes filled with tears she refused to let fall down her rosy cheek. But, the wind had begun to dry her eyes, her skin growing colder by the touch of the cool air. Her fingers lifted from the railing just slightly, allowing the temperature of her palms to ease away the frozen touch of the steel before her.

Aaira hated winter; more than anything.

She despised the cold, the snow, the wind, the constant rain. It felt like a neverending season, and one she wished would disappear - not just because it was cold, but because of her mother.

According to Aaira, it was winter that took away the love, and life, of her mother. Only winter was to blame. Yet, she began to think over the years - was it winter's fault? Or was there something still lurking behind the shadows? Something, perhaps, she was yet to uncover.

A lot of Aaira's thoughts revolved around the death of her mother, and the disappearance of her father, and, still, at the age of 24, she knew no difference.

Her fingertips, once again, grazed over the edge of the railing. This time, it felt warmer, and so she wrapped her fingers around it tightly, leaning over just so she was on the edge of her tip-toes. And, as the air folded around her, she took in every scent, every sound, and every sight. Even as her lips parted, she could taste the cool air calmly gliding over her tongue and entering her lungs. It truly felt like a breath of fresh air, which felt uncommon to Aaira.

Often, when she left the comfort of her home, she questioned, 'how did the air feel to mom? Did she like the air? Did she like the cold?'

And with every question she asked, she would never get a response. Aaira would keep wondering, and asking herself the same questions every day. It never bored her - it intrigued her.

Her body hung over the edge, and she finally felt free. It was as though she grew back her wings, finally reuniting with her mother.

Lifting her leg, step by step, Aaira climbed over the railing. Her fingers wrapped around the bar once more, and they began to burn as she scraped them across, leaning closer to view the water below.

It was an eerie, but beautiful, sight. The river swept quickly across the bed and, as she looked closer, Aaira noticed the stars gleaming back at her. She couldn't help but lift her head to admire the night sky. London was always an adored scenic area, but only Aaira ever seemed to notice how the sun, the moon and the stars glared back at her. It was as though they smiled back at her which, suddenly, became a comforting memory to Aaira.

She would miss them the most.

Realistically, who did she have to miss?

Right, her uncle. But, really? Is that all she had to live for? It sure felt that way.

With the moon shining, and the stars glistening, Aaira felt as though it was finally her time. Time had passed slowly and, so, she felt like she had already lived the life she should.

The tips of her shoes dangled off the edge, but she was waiting.

Waiting for, perhaps, a sign.

If she had lived her life, she would let go.

And, if she hadn't?

Before Aaira could finally make her decision, her eyes darted. Just from staring from the corner of her eye, she had a glimpse of a dark haired male. A boy or a man, she didn't know. All of a sudden, she became interested.

With a tilt of her head, Aaira was able to make out the structure of his stance. He was around her age, potentially older. His hair was unrecognisable in the dark, but she noticed small curls falling down towards his eyes. They were light, like messy curls. Yet, even with her bulging eyes glaring, he still had not noticed her.

Aaira continued to stare, nevertheless, hoping at one point he would catch her eye. But, he didn't. He seemed to just gaze out at the river - a cigarette between his lips, his arms hanging over the edge of the bridge. She began to note his rugged looks in her mind, and then he finally spoke.

"What?"

His voice was harsh, although she could imagine it was from the smoking.

Aaira stood in silence, tilting her head back to stare into the water.

"Should I put it out?" he spoke again. This time, his voice was gentle.

"What?"

"The cigarette?" he pulls the paper from his lips, dropping it to the floor where his shoe stomped down, the dark amber light slowly fading. "Better?"

As he spoke, his eyes still lingered ahead, he didn't turn his head once - not even slightly.

Aaira felt as though starting a conversation with the unknown man would distract her, or even stop her. Yet, a part of her felt like she just had to know.

"You're not stopping me?" her arms still gripped the rail behind her, but she slowly pulled herself back towards safety.

He gave a faint chuckle before breathing a sigh. "Should I?"

"Well-" she began, suddenly feeling a sense of confusion. "I guess not."

"Do you want me to?" the man spoke again and, this time, he turned to face her.

The bridge lights shone down eerily, the structure of his face began to appear, shadowy as they were. Dark eyes, pink lips, and fair skin. The colour of his hair began to glow in the light, too; a similar colour to his eyes. The shape of his face fit just perfectly. One thing Aaira had noticed was his nose.

What an odd nose.

Yet, it was mesmerising.

It made his face look soft rather than sharp.

"Um…" Aaira softly spoke, uttering her words in a low voice, just enough so that he couldn't hear her muttering.

"Is that a yes?" his brows raised softly, his arms slowly lifting from the rail to edge towards her.

She snickered to herself, shaking away her thoughts. "Of course, not. Don't be silly." A short tut left her lips, and she returned her stance, staring back at the water once more.

And, now, she was stuck. Aaira was at a loss. Her thoughts had been forgotten in a mist.

Aaira may have forgotten her reason for leaving her godforsaken world, but she was ready. Prepared.

The man had stopped talking, and Aaira could no longer see him in her peripheral vision. And, so, she took her chance.

Eyes shut tightly, she let her fingers slip carefully from the railing just until she felt a heavy breath on the back of her neck. Aaira felt her shoes slip from the ledge. Her hand was tugged back; a warm touch that urged her to shudder.

And, there he stood.

Aaira's reason for living.