With trembling hands, she picked up her phone, misdailed twice, though it didn’t matter. She knew he wouldn’t answer. He broke off all contact with her, and with everyone else, after he posted his new status in Facebook: James is: I’m leaving.

She knew what he was planning, he’d been talking about it for months. She closed the door behind her and started running. The streets were deserted, the streetlights casting eerie shadows over everything. Down the street, around the corner and straight down the train tracks towards the direction of his house. She was oddly calm. Though her pulse raced from running, she didn’t feel any signs of panic. As she rounded the bend, she saw him. Lying in fetal position, head on the rail. She started shaking uncontrollably, her heart hammering, head spinning. She didn’t remember walking over to him, but she ended up next to him, one hand on his shoulder.

He turned to her, face a sea of emotions.

He held on to her hand as if he’d never let go.

“I don’t want to die.”