I climbed the steps, getting more and more nervous with every step. I was going to do it. I was going to do it. I had planned on doing it for so long but I hadn't had the courage to. But now I did.

Come on Liz. You have to. Do it for yourself. Do it for everyone else I whispered to myself as I climbed higher and higher, gritting my teeth so I didn't back out. It'll be better if you do it. You'll be free. You'll finally be free.

I finally reached the top, my feet, enclosed in battered Converse, aching. Don't lose your nerve now Liz. You can do this. I stood still and looked around, trying to find my perfect spot. I saw another person huddled at the edge, their legs dangling over the edge. Were they going to do what I was? But where they were sitting was the perfect spot for me to just disappear.

I walked over and sat down, close to them. I tried to hold back the tears as I plucked up my courage to go. All the moments had led up to this one. I looked at the person next to me, whose head then swivelled in my direction. It was a guy of about my age with brown hair and brown eyes.

'What are you doing here?' He whispered, almost angrily.

'I…I…' I started choking up. 'I'm going to leave'.

'Leave what?' he seemed intrigued.

'Leave this world' I said softly in reply.

'Why' he didn't say it as a question, more of statement.

'I can't deal with it anymore. I've lost myself and I can't find my way back. I don't know who I am. I can't do this anymore' I said, staring into the horizon. 'I'm just tired. So very tired'.

'Same' he said, turning his head to look at me. 'That's why I'm here too. No one cares. It's easier for me to just leave'.

'I care' I murmured. I had only known the guy for about two minutes but I cared. He was going through the same pain as me. He understood.

'You do?' he whispered to me. 'Why do you care about me?'

'Because you understand what it's like' I said simply. I looked down; both of our feet were dangling in the air, mine in Converse, and his in dirty hightops. Just one movement and we could both be gone. Just one movement. I looked at the people far below us, some rushing through the crowds, some casually ambling along, without a care in the world. Every single person below us was completely oblivious to the fact that there were two teenagers above them. Planning on ending their own lives.

'I've always been alone' I carried on. 'I've never really had anyone. Nobody understands the pain I've been in'.

'I understand' the boy replied. 'But now you've got me. I'm here. I understand'. He reached out for my hand and I took it. His hand was warm and I shivered, I was only wearing a thin grey t-shirt. I looked down, my hand entwined with his. Scars covered my forearms and wrists, some purple, some white, some read. I had always tried to cover them, but today, I decided I wanted to be free. Nobody would ever love a girl with scars.

'Tell me your story. Tell me about your life' he said.

'Alright' I agreed. 'Well, I'm 21 and I was diagnosed with depression at the age of 14. I've struggled through it for 7 years on my own, with no one to help me. No one to encourage me. At times, it would get so bad that I would cut. I would cut so deeply that the blood seemed as if it would never stop. I would cry in pain, wishing for it to end. I couldn't take much more but cutting was a relief for me. I was in control when I did, my emotional pain turned to physical pain. Cut after cut after cut. My mum is an alcoholic and my dad fucked off when I was younger. I never see my mum, she's always out either drinking or over at her boyfriend's house, who was a drug addict. I've been alone my whole life'. I paused for a breath. 'What about you?'

The boy shuffled closer to me, still holding my hand. 'Ok, I'm also 21 and like you, I was diagnosed with depression. But I was only diagnosed last year. Life would just get so bad, y'know. I never cut, I always thought that I never wanted to die but now I'm not so sure'.

'We think we want to die. But in reality, I think we just want to be saved' I whispered.

'Exactly' he said softy in reply. 'You know you said you've never had anyone? Well, now you have me. I'll help you. Like me, you want help. But I get the feeling you don't want to ask. Am I right?'

'You're right' I sighed. 'People would have judged me. I was afraid I would be seen as an Emo, a suicidal-freak. Because people wouldn't understand. People make jokes out of cutting but it's no joke. They don't realise the pain you have to be in to drag a knife, a blade, over and over your skin again. Just to bleed. To let it all out. To feel better'.

'You're not an Emo or a suicidal-freak. You're just a girl who's alone. A girl who's scared. And you know what, I don't care. Because today, you've saved me'.

'You saved me too' I replied softly. The boy and I both stood up, still holding hands and we walked to the stairway that led off the roof.

We both walked down the stairs in silence. I trusted the boy. We got to the bottom of the stairs and we walked out of the building onto the busy street, lined with hundreds of people going about their everyday life.

'Well, it was nice meeting you' the boy said, looked at me.

'You too' I replied. 'And thank you'.

'Thank you too'. He said quietly, his eyes penetrating mine. 'Well, I'd better get going. See you soon'.

'Yep, see you' I mumbled.

'Remember, I have faith in you. Keep strong, ok?' he looked at me for one last time, his eyes filled with trust, before walking away.

Knowing someone was by your side no matter what – helping you fight your battles and achieve your goals, and always having faith in you, even when you lost sight of your own strengths – was the true meaning of trust.