She lit up the zippo, covered in iridescent butterflies, splattered with the colors red, white, and blue. I stared at the flame getting closer to her cigarette and the memories came flooding back in waves. I never really knew her before this. She took advantage that I had no memory of my past life; now that I look back on it, she’s a complete stranger.
My vision started to blur at my realization. I remember feeling miserable, feeling like I was worth nothing and I had nothing to live for. My life used to be worthless, the reason I was there that day, in that same hospital as her was because I tried to commit suicide. It didn’t work as planned, I’m still here, and that’s amazing. I would sit in the same seat against the wall, in the same hallway ever since I arrived here, trying to regain my memories. That’s when she appeared and dragged me off the hard surface of the chair I sat upon ,and out the double decker doors. She’d given me a life to live for.
I closed my eyes and breathed in the remaining fresh air before it could be consumed by her smoke and thought to myself, ‘this is what it’s like to live’. I opened my eyes and looked down toward the lights of our broken city. The view from on top of the Hollywood sign was inviting, yet discomforting. This city is full of poison. I could feel myself reverting back into my dark thoughts, trying to take a swig of that poison. I throwing my hands up in the ait I yelled as loud as I possibly could. I yelled to release all my setbacks, my depression, my over thinking of things and worst of all, my absolute hatred towards myself.
The wind began to pick up around me as if enticed by my screams. I yelled louder as she looked at me and began yelling in unison. Our yelling encircled each other causing a harmonizing sound of release. She looked so happy, like she had reached a breakthrough, like she’s finally broken into the safe in me. There was a smile on her lips as the wind carried her red amber hair in her mouth, she didn’t care, she never cared.
She was a free spirit helping a broken bird, she was beautiful. I didn’t want this moment to end, in fear that once she’s succeeded in her deed that she would disappear. She stopped long before me, my throat sore from the air that went straight to the back of my throat, drying out the wet cavern. I felt light headed, this is the longest I’ve used my vocal cords.
I tried to catch my breath as she stepped away from the ledge of the hill. I looked over at her, scared that what I feared was going to happen, she was going to disappear, but she didn’t. Instead, she looked over at me and sat down on the cold moist earth below and patted the spot beside her. We had a long talk about how she knew me long before today. Apparently we went to the same high school. She’d watch me from a distance, interested in my life. She told me how she always worried she wouldn’t see me the next day and find my name plastered on the news. From what she said, seemed to be the only one to notice that I didn’t want to be part of this world. She didn’t do anything though, she just watched.
“You know I’ve always regretted not being able to save you. I was fascinated in the mystery of not knowing if you would go through with it. I know that sounds evil, but I couldn’t help it, I was a weird girl. But meeting you again today makes me feel like its fate. I thought you had already gone through with it, but when I saw you sitting there with your hands placed over your face in that hospital gown, I knew immediately that it was fate. I am the one who gets to save you.” She looked over at me earnestly causing me to look away, fixing my gaze on the tiny crystal drops of frost resting on the tips of each separate grass blade. I tore a handful from the ground, playing around with it as she continued to speak.
“I was happy to see you. I may have forgotten you if I didn’t, and for some reason that scared me. You helped me get through some stuff in some way. Seeing you there I thought you had your head down in shame because you woke up, but when I called on you, you looked lost, like you didn’t know where you were or who you were. That’s when it clicked you must be the trauma patient bunking with my grandmother. The doctors were telling me how she would need to go into surgery for her hip when I overheard them talking about you losing your memory and how they didn’t know how dire it was; you lost it all it seems. When I heard this I had to jump on this opportunity to talk to you, to save you. It was my chance to right the wrong that I should have stopped six years ago as a naïve teenager. ”
“I know I’m dumb for doing this. I basically kidnapped you from your treatment. Your still in recovery from your recent attempt, I’m such an idiot.” She put her face in her hands hitting herself over and over, full force. I grabbed her hands and dragged them away and looked at her, she was crying. She saved me, even if for years she’d been using the idea of me to feel better about herself. I was okay with it because she had saved me from a life of self-harm, from self-hate.
I broke the silence that hung over us as I laughed at the idea of me hating her. It’s not possible for me to hate her, not with all she’s done for me today.
“Why are you laughing? I just told you that I used you and that the only reason I saved you today was because I felt guilty about it.”
“Hahahahaha that’s the thing, you act like I would care. I wanted to end my life until a few minutes ago; I don’t care the reason why you saved me, just as long as you did. I’m free now. I can do what I want without a dark cloud hanging above my head, slowing me down.” I looked over at her taking her hand, dragging her to stand up with me. I looked into her red eyes, still filled with some tears.
She looked at me confused as I came face to face with her, kneeling down slightly to gain eye level, and said: “Thank you, thank you for saving my life, for making me see how stupid I was for wanting to end it in the first place. Thank you for being here today and for caring as much as you did, past and present. Thank you for this life changing day and a new philosophy. Thank you for taking me away from those horrid monitors that recorded my every move. Also for those bomb ass quesadillas you made. Thank you for absolutely everything.” She started to cry more, a little laugh escaping as she leaned her head into my shoulder as she hugging me. I could feel her tears as they sunk into my shirt. I thought to myself that this was going to be the last time I’d see her, I was sure of it.
I would never see her again after she dropped me off at the loading zone in front of the hospital, the last thing I remember is watching her drive off in her little blue Toyota, Yaris.
When I entered the building through the emergency doors, the doctors and hospital staff were infuriated with me, but they seemed to back off quite a bit because they saw it in my eyes. My eyes weren’t fogged with the need to kill myself, but with the need to live. After I had fully recovered I was released. My treatment was a prescription of anti-depressants and a therapy appointment every week for about a year. Luckily I wasn’t admitted into a ward.
When I got to my apartment three weeks later, it was silent. I lived alone, so it was to be suspected. I took one step inside and nearly fell face first onto the hard wood flooring. The entrance was covered with mail due to the fact that my mail slot is implanted into my door.
I picked them up skimming through each crinkled envelope. Most of them were bills and letters from home that I am not looking forward to reading. My eyes caught sight of a very distinguishable red envelope hidden within the pile of bills. I turned it over in my hands as I walked towards the kitchen island leaving the door wide open behind me. I set the rest of the envelopes down as I inspected the mysterious red envelope. On the front was a single written letter, A. I opened it cautiously, not sure of its contents, until a waft of a familiar perfume made its way into my nostrils. It’s hers.
I looked inside to find a letter and various goofy pictures of us that we took in a photo booth on that night she saved me. I opened the letter, unfolding and straightening every crinkle to decipher what she’d written on the wide rule paper in front of me.

The letter said: “Maybe we can get together again? I heard from someone you may know that I make some mean ass quesadillas.”
I didn’t notice but a smile had reached its way to my face. Smiling was still kind of new to me, so it stung when my skin stretched to form a half crescent moon. Her number was written on a small piece of pink paper that fell out as I shook the envelope upside down. I was a little distraught at first but soon completely understood. I’d see her again.