Standing on the middle of the bridge. It’s close to midnight, I think.

Now the question: to jump, or not to jump?

Not to jump.

“Shut the fuck up, Frankie. I don’t need your shit tonight,” I say. Frankie is beginning to blur into the background but his voice is still loud and clear.

Have you even begun to think about what you’re doing? You’re being weak. That’s what you’re doing.

You’d think a random voice in my head would be more polite. Though, then again, he’s a voice in MY head. It makes sense, I guess.

Frankie switches his weight back and forth; he’s getting taller as we speak. That, or I’m getting smaller. Either way, it sucks for me.

I tried being nice, you know. I’ve tried being supportive and helpful. Nothing seems to work because you just block me out whenever you hear me. But look here; you’re responding, right? It seems insults are the only way to get you to listen to me.

I try to think of ways to tell him otherwise, but he’s right; I DO block him out when he starts with the whole “Think of the people that love you” bullshit. “Think of yourself.”

The lights of the city below reflect as high as the clouds.

You haven’t answered your question yet.

“I know, asshole,” I spit back. I take a cigarette out of my pack and start to feel bad. I light up and feel worse.

You know exactly what you need to do to get better. Do you do any of it? No. You do shit that you know will make you feel bad. Why?

“I don’t need to explain anything to you,” I mumble.

Yeah, you’re right. The answer keeps flying past me.

Frankie lives in a scary place in my head, he told me when we first met. My thoughts are physical sentences that he can physically see. Every once in a while, there are storms. The rain is black powder that soaks him to the bone. Sometimes, the rain is rock falls. Sometimes, he gets hurt. I can see it whenever it happens.

Two people bicycle past; I keep my mouth shut, opening it long enough to take a drag. My insides tighten. I feel like crying, but hold it back. If I cry, I think. If I think, I’ll leave. The cycle continues.

Honey, it’s okay if you fzzzzz do this. Please, think fzzzzz least. Before you fzzzz drastic.

Suzie is much taller than Frankie, but it’s harder to hear her. She sounds as if she’s speaking through a crappy radio. Her presence feels motherly. She seems to show up when I’m on the brink and about to lose myself. Times like tonight. I’m sure I would be able to hear her better if it wasn’t for the storm passing through.

Frankie, on the other hand, is loud, clear, and decidedly more hateful. A little bit more like me.

Nice of you to show up. Now are you going to help me get the fucker off this bridge in one piece or start with all the warm, squishy bullshit?

Suzie looks at Frankie with a raised eyebrow. I know they hate each other, but there’s really nothing I can do about that.

You know, you don’t help when you fzzzzz. You just make everything fzzzz you make my job fzzzzzzzfzzzzzz.

Doesn’t it mean something that we’ve both got the same goal, though? Mine is just a less pussyfied way of doing it; my way actually gets results.

I’m listening to them fight in my head on a bridge in the middle of the night.

“You guys are starting to sound like parents; stop it,” I snap at them. They jump at the sound of my voice. They suddenly remember what it is they’re supposed to be doing.

Sorry, fzzz. I’m sorry. She hugs me. I can feel love moving from her to me. It hurts, but I don’t know why.

I’m sorry too, I guess. Frankie sounds sarcastic and wants to placate me. That pisses me off.

“You know, I really don’t need either of you here. I can figure this shit out by myself,” I sound unsure of the things I say. Dammit. Frankie smiles; he’s got the canines of a wolf.

And yet, here we are. Here we are tonight, on this bridge trying to talk you out of throwing yourself off. Think of us as your mind’s Last Line of Defense.

He laughs. It’s a horrible, grating sound. If I thought it was possible, I’d punch him.

Suzie stands close to me. She looks like a 1950s housewife, right down to the curled hair. She takes my hand in hers and looks into my eyes.

Please, please don’t do fzzzzzz. I know things seem fzzzz, and they are sometimes, but you’ll be fzzzz if you live. Why cut your life short when things can fzzzzzz?

I know she deeply believes everything she says, but the words sound empty to me. I snatch my hand away and take a drag with the other. It’s hard to take my eyes off her, but I do somehow. Frankie giggles on the other side of me.

You think I make your job hard? Seems hard enough without me to interfere.

Frankie gets a little taller. They’re the same height now. So I am staying the same size.

They glare at each other. It hurts to be between them. I fold my arms on the rail and rest my head on them, waiting for one of the voices to speak.

If you hadn’t been there years before me, fzzzzzzzzzzzzzzfzzzzzzz, making life harder for fzzzzzzzfzzzz, my job would be a whole lot easier. But no, not only do I have to clean up after life, I find myself having to clean up after your shit too.

Suzie’s eyes begin to glow at Frankie. He laughs callously at her. Standing between them is much more painful now, but no matter where I move, they remain on either side of me.

You say that not knowing I used to be exactly like you, you know. You try working on this psyche and not being an asshole about it after a while.

No, see, I wouldn’t be an asshole about it, not even after a millennia. That’s just not my way.

Suzie speaks with her teeth clenched. I wouldn’t be surprised if she just ended up launching herself at Frankie.

I suddenly notice I can hear her more clearly. The storm has finally passed.

Frankie smiles and looks back at me. He puts his hand on my shoulder. It feels like needles.

Let’s try to think of this in a different way, then.

He exposes his canines again with that warped, twisted smile of his.

Think of your life. Yeah, things suck a shit log right now, but they have before and it’s gotten better, right?

I shake his hand off me. He’s being right, and I hate that.

I’m inclined to agree.

I look back over at Suzie. She’s my size now, as is Frankie, but my view of her has changed. She looks as if she’s in a movie filmed with 8mm film. It’s choppy. I’m losing her again. She too is smoking, one arm around her waist and the other holding the cigarette up. Her eyes are red. Frankie likes to make her cry. I’m sure they have conversations I can’t hear.

A knot rises in my throat. It’s getting harder and harder to hold the tears back, so I don’t. I cry like a little pussy child. I turn away from the city and let myself fall. Frankie takes a step back. He looks solemn, staring at the ground.

I’m on my feet again, but I know it’s only in my head. Suzie holds me close.

It’ll all be okay, baby. I promise you.

She begins to fade away.

When she’s gone, I’m still sitting, still crying. But a weight has been lifted from my chest. Frankie still stands in front of me. Sometimes, I wish they would switch places; Frankie always remains, while Suzie leaves once her job is done. I’m sure my life would be a whole lot easier if it were the other way around.

Frankie smirks. He can hear every thought in my head. I’ve never once forgotten that.

C’mon, kid.

He lifts me to my feet by the arm. I stare at him; he’s being nice, and it’s freaking me out.

He laughs a little. It’s not horrible and grating anymore.

Think it’s time to go home?

I sniff and nod. We start the long walk to the north side of the bridge.

You’re a right pain in the ass sometimes, you know.

“Fuck you, Frankie.” I say.