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Mike stood alone in the darkness at the top of the bridge under a leaden sky that snuffed out any life the moon might have brought to the night. An icy breeze knifed through him and the chilled metal structure creaked, making the bridge sway. He took one last drag from his cigarette, flicked it into the wind and watched its orange tip spiral downward until it disappeared into the abyss below.
Pulling his jacket close, he held tighter to the suspension cable and stared down into the swirling blackness of the river, listening to the roar of the water rushing beneath him.
Three days ago they fished what was left of Liz from a tangle of tree roots at the river's edge. A plastic bag with a note to him had been pinned to her blouse.
Crazy bitch.
Only Liz would think of putting the note in a plastic bag to keep it dry. Anything to lay a guilt trip on him. That in itself had been bad enough, but the grilling the cops gave him really iced the cake. He told the same story over and over until they finally let him go.
It wasn't his fault. He'd had enough of her. Simple as that, nothing more. She threatened to do herself in hundreds of times before, but it was always the same old tired ploy for attention, like her story about the guy climbing in her window. When that one wore thin, she made a big deal about the guys hitting on her at work, then she went to her mother's to make him think she had been out with someone else.
Anything for attention.
Her constant need wore him down to the point where he felt exhausted after spending ten minutes with her. Her every breathing moment revolved around him. He tried to get her to take up hobbies. Reading, roller blades, quilting, gardening... He spent a couple of grand on books, classes, kits, and videos, but all she wanted was to be with him.
He resented being the one responsible for her happiness. Why couldn't she find her own, then share it with him?
If he showed up a few minutes late, she'd be frantic. If he went out for a night "with the boys" she'd be hurt and jealous. Everywhere he went, she clung to him.
He had to admit, he enjoyed the attention in the beginning, but she didn't know when to stop.
"I love you," she said over and over. "I love you, Michael. You don't know how much."
She said it so many times the words lost their meaning.
"I'd do anything for you, you know that. Anything. Just name it."
The pouting followed.
"I do so much for you and you don't appreciate it."
He was tired of the same complaints.
Finally the tears came, then the guilt trip. No one knew how to lay it on thicker and better than Liz...
The wind gusted and pale moonlight broke through the cloud cover. He glanced up at the ragged wisps flitting in front of the moon, then stared down at its feeble reflection sparkling in the rushing blackness below.
What could he do now? By jumping she had freed him from the curse of being the object of her obsession. Did he love her? No, not really...
To hell with the crazy bitch. Mike turned to leave, stopped and turned back to take one last look down into the silvery blackness.
Crazy bitch, he thought, then he stepped off into the abyss.
