Gave Up

I can't do it. But I want to.
I had given up long ago.
I stared down at the murky water below me. It was a long way down. It was very dark, there would be no witnesses.
I climbed onto the wide stone edges of the bridge, preparing myself for what I was about to do.
"Hello," I heard a little voice behind me.
I quickly clambered down to the safety of the hard concrete ground.
"What are you doing?" A little girl of about eight stood before me. She held a candle in her left hand. The light was just enough to see that her face was dirty and her clothes were merely rags.
"Umm... I'm not doing anything," I nervously brushed my dark hair over my eyes.
"You were going to jump weren't you?" She asked, "I've seen people jump before. I don't like it when they do that. They never seem to wake up."
No little girl should have to see that. I realised that she would've seen that if I had jumped.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," I broke into a fit of tears.
She walked closer to me. I stopped crying enough so I could speak.
"Where do you live?" I asked quietly.
"Here," She said quite definitely.
"What do you mean here... oh. I'm sorry I asked," I felt like crying again.
"You get used to it," She shrugged.
"Will you be okay?"
"Yes. I've looked after myself for five years now. I'll be fine."
"O... okay... I should go," I ran off. I ran towards my house. The house where me, my alcoholic father and my gambling mother lives. I hurried through our tattered front door. In our tiny lounge, sat a single chair in front of an ancient looking television.
On that little seat I saw Dad cradling my crying Mum in his arms.
"Darling, where were you?" Dad jumped up, "We were worried sick."
He ran over to me and hugged me, automatically followed by Mum.
I thought to myself, I'm so lucky. Lucky to have parents. Lucky to have a home. It may be a little trashy house and my parents may be a bit weird. But I'm lucky to have them. I'm lucky to have life.