Stay Awake, Stay Awake, Survive.

I told you the long drop was the only way out. You told me to step away from the edge of the building. You told me there were safer ways to get down from this, to become okay again, to feel again, to stop feeling so numb. All I remember is finally taking your hand as you helped me down, and into the crowd of worried passersby and sirens. When they took me away, any memory of that day vanished. You didn't come with me. You didn't visit me to see if the cuts healed, to see if my heart was fixed; yet, I still waited. I waited every day, glancing at the hospital door every few minutes, wondering if you lost your way, if you were at work, or helping others with suicide. I grew silent again. I did just enough to get by, to show I was making some sort of progress. Days went by where I still wish you never helped, but I'm still here, waiting.
Exactly one year later and I still don't know who you are. You were some random stranger, and I never knew you before those sickening few moments on the highest building in the city. I felt like I knew who you were and what your life was about somehow. I felt the love in my heart for you grow every minute of the days that slowly passed by. Yet, I still never knew your name.

Each morning went exactly like this: I'd get up, get dressed and ready, leave my house, walk 14 blocks into the city and past the building where you saved me, and walk to work. Then I would walk all the way back at the end of my day. I always hoped to see you. I always hoped you'd be waiting like I waited for you. I just wanted to tell you how thankful I was. I wanted to be able to learn who you really were. I wanted you.
I've been walking by the building for months now. I walked by with the same empty, cold feeling inside. I also felt some hope inside as well. One morning, something caught my eye. Towards the wall of the building, a young boy was crouched over, crying softly. I walked over, and saw him holding a candle. I wanted to ask why he was upset, but I was afraid to make him more upset. His tears were flowing fast the way it was. Instead, I just sat next to him, and held his small hand. At first, he became startled, but grasped onto my hand back with so much strength.
"He was my brother." The boy said in a whisper.
"Who was?" I asked, my voice cracking from being silent for so long. He just handed me a torn and wrinkled photograph of a young man. I gently took it from his hands, and felt my breath catch in my throat, and my chest tighten. I blinked my eyes, and felt hot tears fall down my face. The boy hugged me tightly.
"So, you knew him too?"
Did I know him? Of course I did. He was the one who saved my life.
My eyes closed, and I felt myself falling. I couldn't breathe right, I was shaking, my heart was beating too fast.
"How...how long was this here?" I found myself asking. The boy let go.
"A year. He saved some lady from jumping, but jumped after she was taken away."
My heart caved in. My whole world went dark. "...I don't understand."
"No one does. No one knows why it happened." The boy said, trying to hold back more tears. I stood up, glancing at all the other pictures and candles set in the special place to remember him by. Out of all my time of walking by, I never saw this. I never noticed it once.
The small boy stood up as well. I looked around, and there were no other adults. I didn't know where his parents were, I didn't even know if they existed, but I figured I'd wait with him against the wall until someone came around. So I sat back down, and so did he.
"What's your name?"
"Andrew."
"Well Andrew, if you're willing to prove me right about how amazing a person your brother was, I'm willing to listen."
Andrew smiled a bit, and held my hand again. "Alright."
"Just promise me one thing?"
"What's that, lady?"
"Please don't tell me his name."