Jumping Into Rivers

“Who are you?”
“I’m Diana.”

Louis looked at her for a second longer before turning away. He wasn’t keen on her. After all, how could he be? He had no idea who she was. She appeared out of nowhere and began speaking as if she’d known him for years.

Louis licked his dry, chapped lips and stared longingly into the dark water once again. She was right. He knew she was right. But why should he listen to her? A stranger. Louis swallowed hard, his throat tight. The vodka bottle in his hand clinked gently against the railings, the burning liquid sloshing in its container.

“Don’t,” this girl said again. Her voice was so fine and caring, “please”.

Like clockwork Louis swivelled his legs around once again. His feet this time landed on the concrete floor of London rather than swinging freely over the water. He didn’t understand why he listened. This girl was a complete stranger to him. She could be crazy, she could be a serial killer, and she could even be a vampire. Louis laughed at himself. Such a stupid suggestion. But on a serious note, this girl – Diana – had stopped him. Her words made Louis guilty, they made him sad, and they even made him shiver because of how soft her voice spoke. Like a feather so delicately brushing the skin.

It took all his courage to look back up at her. Somehow embarrassed by the position she had caught him in. This time, however, Louis saw something different in her eyes. They were ocean blue, like before, but they were so horrifying. They were still and lifeless. Cold and harsh with such little emotion, almost as if there was no feeling at all inside of her. Not beautiful in the slightest. Just dead, completely contrasted against her feather-like voice and angelic appearance.

Diana seemed to know because she turned her head away, lowering it as if in shame. Her blonde hair once again picking up the invisible wind and attacked her face. Louis noticed her tugging her grey cardigan over her wrists, but somehow he felt it wasn’t because she was cold. It almost seemed like she couldn’t feel the cold because her cheeks were not red like his, and her teeth were not chattering.

There was something odd about Diana, there was no denying.

“Let’s go home, shall we?” without an answer Diana walked, heading in the direction that would lead to Louis’ house.

Louis knitted his eyebrows together. How did she know? Regardless of his thoughts he ran up beside her, his Toms slapping on the pavement. Her Converse seemed to make no noise at all, although Louis convinced himself he was imagining things. His brain was particularly fuzzy, let’s not forget.

After a minutes silence Louis spoke, “Who are you?”

“I told you. I’m Diana.”
“No, I mean really. Who are you? How did you find me? How do you know me?”
“Your face is in ever magazine, perhaps you remember? Everybody knows who you are, Louis Tomlinson, it is no secret.” Her voice now held a sense of hostility, she was hiding something it was obvious. And the way she was hiding it was by speaking in riddles which frustrated Louis to no end.

“That doesn’t answer every question.” A blunt Louis replied.
“Why must every question be answered? Why can I not remain mysterious?”
“Because you appeared in my life with no explanation! In fact, you appeared from nowhere! Who are you? And tell me the truth.” Louis was growing frustrated.

Diana sighed, “I’m afraid I can’t tell you the truth. You wouldn’t believe me if I tried. Just accept my presence, Louis. It would be easier for the both of us.” She seemed genuinely upset, however the speech seemed rehearsed. It had been spoken before, Louis would later realise.

Louis was not impressed by this. He made a noise of disgust and took another swig from his bottle, grimacing as it burned.

“Please, don’t be angry with me.” Diana spoke, tucking her ropey hair behind her ear.
“Why can’t I be? You’re practically a fucking stranger.”
“Louis, I hope you have not forgotten that I saved your life-”
“What if I didn’t want to be saved?” A drunken Louis interrupted.
“Don’t lie to yourself. You would have regretted it.”
“And you know that, do you?” Louis stopped suddenly, not so eager to walk anywhere with her now.

“For a fact.” Diana nodded but with no hit of sarcasm.
“For a fact?” Louis repeated, laughing in disbelief, “Who the fuck are you?”
“Please, Louis.” She touched his arm in a sweet gesture, but her ice cold hands made him pull back sharply. Quickly she lowered her hand again, realising her mistake.

But, it was that word again. It melted Louis’ heart. He sighed, and rolled his eyes, “Fine.”

“Fine?” she questioned.
“Fine!” Louis repeated “You can keep this weird, mysterious air to you. I don’t care.” He waved it off and began walking again, this time with more of a stride. However, Diana had no trouble keeping up.

“I think you’re a good person, Louis.” Diana said after a while, walking down a street close to Louis’ home. Up ahead they could see a couple with their arms linked, heads burrowed into their scarf’s to warm their red noses.

“Oh, yeah. Why would you think that?” Despite his awkward attitude towards her, Louis had to admit he enjoyed Diana’s company. There seemed to be something oddly wise about her. As if she’d seen too much for her nineteen years.

“Because there was slight hesitation in you. There are people you love, isn’t there? People you care about?” without even having to mention it, Louis knew she was talking about their moment earlier, at the bridge.

“Of course there are people I care about. I think maybe I care too much. But how can I care if I thought about doing that? How can I care if I thought about jumping?” talking to himself, rather than Diana.

They were close to the couple now. A few steps more until they would cross paths, but what concerned Louis was that they were staring at him oddly. However, only at him. They didn’t even seem to register that Diana was there. It was only when she stumbled out of their way that they avoided knocking into her. They didn’t even apologise.

“Hey! Look where you’re walking, dick! And say fucking sorry next time!” Louis yelled back at the couple, swinging his vodka bottle in emphasis, indicating to a neutral looking Diana beside him.

They looked back at him in confusion and shock, “Stupid drunk teenager.” The man’s voice mumbled, luckily out of Louis’ ear shot.

With one final turn they were in Louis’ street. The moment earlier forgotten about. Diana had giggled at the incident, particularly Louis’ reaction. When asked what was so funny Diana simply replied, “It’s a personal joke, you wouldn’t understand.”

Diana was certainly mysterious, and Louis was not sure was to think. For all he knew she was a reporter, or a journalist, or even a crazed fan. But somehow he doubted it. Despite the air of mystery, there was just something about Diana. Something he couldn’t quite place, but something that allowed Louis to believe that what Diana spoke was truth. She seemed to know things. Things that a nineteen year old girl shouldn’t know.

Once they reached the front gate Louis turned towards her, “It was nice to meet you, Diana.” And he offered it with complete honesty.

“It was nice to meet you too, Louis Tomlinson.” She raised her hand, which Louis took. He ignored the icy chill of her fingertips and gave it a brief shake, “I have a feeling we’ll meet again in the near future.” She added, with a knowing smile.

Louis looked at her with suspicion, somehow completely believing her. He went to turn away, thinking it was the end of the conversation, but she called him back.

“Louis?” he turned at her voice, “You would have jumped tonight, had I not interrupted,” Louis looked shocked, how did she know? “I want you to think of that. I want you to think why you would have jumped. I refuse to believe it was because you were drunk. Please, Louis. If there is one thing I want to do with my miserable life, it is to stop people like you from making such hideous mistakes.” With a sad smile she turned away, walking swiftly down the street and fading into the darkness, her white dress fluttering around her knees with strange elegance.

Louis’ eyes lingered in the darkness. He debated going after her, concerned about her depressive speech just moments before. However, a soft wind picked up and caused goose-bumps to erupt across his arms, and in the breeze Louis though he heard a faint voice say, “Go home.”

Louis swallowed his nerves and turned towards the house. The hall’s light was on, as was the living room’s. It meant they were up. It meant they were waiting. He took one final gulp of the vodka, an extra long one just for luck, and then he made his move.

Like a clumsy child Louis staggered through the lawn, tripped up the stairs and reached the door before being pulled in by a ferocious looking Harry. He was in big trouble.