''Acceptable it is, to kill yourself!''
''No! You condescending maniac''
''Oh, don't deny it!'' he yelled, deliberately moving as to lose his balance.
''Deny what? That I think it's perfectly customary to throw yourself off a 600 ft high suspension bridge?''
''Nonsense, it's not as though you will try and stop me'' he managed, hoping she would.
''Why would I? All the scandalous things you've done to me, all the times you pinned the blame on me for your lack of common sense, I happily welcome your pathetic attempt to take your own life''
''Pathetic! You call this pathetic? Well what the hell do you suggest; I hack off my arms, send them though a trunk shredder, and follow suite?'' shuddering at the thought of his own imagination.
''Well that would be a start'' she replied looking so blasé that even if he did, it would be as thrilling as if someone had accidentally stepped on an ant.
At this point he was so caught up in his own misfortunes that he felt it was necessary for him to send himself through a shredder, just so he could absent himself from the relentless predicaments in his life. It was too much of a burden for him to bare; he was like a stray cat, wondering aimlessly up and down streets with no purpose in life. He felt utterly lost; it was his time to go.
He shook his head and regained his composure, ready to perpetrate the unthinkable. Gripping the suspension wires, he slowly but surely extended his torso toward the empty air, leaving his arms stretched behind him. With his heels perching on the edge of the bridge, he accelerated his body downward bending his knees at ninety degrees.
With one swift movement he leaped up, soaring through the sky, toward the beaming sun. The adrenaline washed over his entire body as he swung his arms out, almost flying like a bird. Scenes of his life flashed before his eyes. He closed them, in a hope to overlook the miserable times he had had.
His thoughts shifted to his mother; what would she make of this? How would she take the news? Not well that's for sure.
He swallowed hard in an attempt to stop his eyes flooding with tears. What was he doing crying? He was a man of honour, one to hold his head up high, resolute. Crying was for the weak, those who didn't have the strength to move on with their lives, those who just lay pitying themselves time after time, hoping a miracle would occur to relieve them of their misery.
Before he knew it, Luke was hurtling towards the concrete earth at two hundred and twenty miles per hour. The lose skin on his cheeks flapped instinctively. The sheer exhilaration of the dive was so overwhelming that he had failed to remember where he was and what was about to happen to him. He closed his eyes and took pleasure in the moment.
It was then that Luke felt a colossal tug on his ankle, yanking him upward again, causing the vision of a rock beneath him to blur into a diminutive spec.