Marcus Except I don't fall. I am yanked down and into a heap on top of a hard body. I am dazed for a moment; what has just happened? I try to sit up, but a strong handheld me down "please don't do it, "a voice beneath my body says beseechingly. I tug again as I try to sit up to look at the person behind the voice, but he refuses to let me go. "Please let go of me," I ask politely. "No," he answers, sighing, "I just want to sit up, please," I try again; he hesitates a bit, but he loosens his grip on me. I sit up, and so does he. He looks at me cautiously, afraid I'll spook and try to jump again. He sits up, and I finally get a good look at him; by God, he is good-looking. He has these vivid blue eyes that I feel are looking directly into my soul. He is tall, taller than my 5'8; he is probably 6' inches and some change. He stares back at me, waiting for me to say something, but I don't know how I feel, let alone what to say. Suddenly it occurs to me that I have failed at killing myself.
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