The bridge was ordinary, chosen almost at random. It was far enough from the city center to avoid too many tourists—those who weren’t deterred by drizzle, late hours, or the rusty, paint-stripped railings.

Marta adjusted the heavy backpack digging into her shoulder and winced as the straps bit into her tired skin again. She stopped roughly midway across the bridge, pressing herself against a concrete pillar. Its cool surface felt refreshing against her overheated body. She let the weight drop to the ground with a soft thud and exhaled. Leaning on the railing, she looked down at the dark water, sparkling faintly with the reflection of streetlights. She reached into her pocket for a cigarette and lit it, fiddling with the lighter for a moment.

A smaller flame, a bigger flame, a smaller flame…

She flicked the lighter into the water below. Exhaling a trail of smoke, she tried to see if it left ripples on the surface.

Alright, it won’t do itself.

She glanced around the bridge. In the distance, a cyclist passed by. Elsewhere, a girl absorbed in her phone illuminated her face with its glow.

Marta hesitated for a moment. She pulled out her phone and glanced at the screen, shielding its light with her body. One unread message, short enough for the preview to show the entire thing:

“Ok. Good luck.”

She smirked faintly and tucked the phone back into her pocket. Dropping the cigarette, she ground it under her boot. She threw her backpack over the railing and then climbed over herself.

Damn bricks, she thought, pulling zip ties from the backpack, nestled between the heavy, broken pieces of concrete she’d collected from a sidewalk renovation near her home. She strapped the backpack tightly to her chest and stomach. Using a longer zip tie she’d prepared earlier, she looped it through the backpack handle, slipped it around her neck, and tightened it. The plastic bit into her skin painfully. Struggling to suppress a gag reflex, she used another tie to bind her legs together—tight enough to prevent movement but with enough slack to stay balanced. The last one she fastened around her wrists, using her teeth to help. The leftover ties slipped from her hand, scattering around her. One fell into the water, quietly carried away by the current to join other trash collecting in the river's bends. Maybe it would find her lighter.

Despite her earlier decision to act quickly, she froze again. Her dark clothes and proximity to the pillar hid her well in the shadows cast by the streetlights. She listened to the gentle sound of the flowing water, something she’d always liked. Now, it felt eerie.

She tried to focus on why she was here, but her mind, stupid and human, kicked in every defense mechanism it could. She felt herself growing nervous. Her pulse quickened, her breathing grew shallow. It annoyed her—why was her brain clinging so desperately to life? She closed her eyes and tried to remember why she was standing there. She managed to summon her husband’s face—she’d seen him recently, from a distance. But her daughter’s face was elusive. She could only recall soft hair, smooth skin, and the aching, hollow emptiness she carried. She clung to that.

She knew she wouldn’t make a dramatic step forward with her legs bound. The last thing she needed was to try and jump with that damn backpack. Still with her eyes closed, she turned her back to the water and let the motion tip her off balance. Her body tried to help her again—leg muscles tensed, feet struggled for stability. She flailed her arms, but the movement only sped up the inevitable. Her stomach clenched as the falling sensation overtook her. She hit the water, her body striking painfully on its side. Her head jerked violently, a sharp pain flaring at her neck where the tie dug in.

I wonder if the trams from the main street will drown out the noise.

The backpack quickly did its job. She hadn’t carried the heavy, awkward thing on a smelly old bus and across the bridge for nothing. It dragged her down, giving her no chance to gasp for air. She congratulated herself on her effective planning.

The bus wasn’t the only thing that stank. The river was just as bad. Bits of debris floated in the water, something brushed against her forehead. She didn’t want to think about what it was or how polluted the river might be.

An attempt to inhale filled her nose with water. Thousands of needle-like pains pierced her lungs, consuming her thoughts. Deliberately, in one last act of defiance, she exhaled the last remnants of air from her lungs in a weak breath. A few tiny bubbles floated to the surface.

She gulped down more water. A faint sense of satisfaction came from knowing she was winning the battle against her stupid, life-clinging body.

Her vision blurred, darkness swallowing everything. She hit the riverbed, sending sand and silt swirling into the water.

How exhausting. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if it all ended here and now.

The noise in her head faded, the pain dulled.

Dying was shit. Just like always.