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"...She looked back down again. Sixteen floors up. She wondered if it would hurt. Wondered just how many feet were between her and the end of it all. She wondered if she would die of fright before she hit the ground. Or of her broken heart. Probably not..."


Submitted:Jan 12, 2012    Reads: 21    Comments: 1    Likes: 0   


She could describe chaos in three words.

One, Manhattan.

Two, Her life.

Everything was screwed up. Four months of the "City Life" had gotten her depressed. No friends, no family. No stable relationships. No support systems. Nothing except the demons in her own head. She stepped up on the ledge. Looked down. Taxi cabs and carpools, buses and crowds on the sidewalks. A frenzy of colors, noises and smells. She wobbled, her head spun. She gasped and stumbled back off the ledge onto the roof of her apartment complex.

Her father was gone.

Not forever, but it felt like it. A business man. Worked ten hour shifts at the office then all night at the bar. He was willing to do the drinking shift. He wasn't an alcoholic, he swore it, But she swore she'd never let herself do this. A tear fell off her wind-chasten cheek as she planted her feet firmly on the ledge again.

So much for that promise.

She looked back down again. Sixteen floors up. She wondered if it would hurt. Wondered just how many feet were between her and the end of it all. She wondered if she would die of fright before she hit the ground. Or of her broken heart. Probably not.

The wind picked up again. She shifted with it. Didn't stumble back this time. She held out her hands, palms up, like an offering to the god she didn't believe in. She had already slit her wrists. Not much time now, the blood seeped out and did a little dance in the wind before hitting the cold stone beneath her bare feet.

Plit-Plit-Plit.

Not good enough. Wind picked up again. She leaned forward. Blood traveled down sixteen stories and dripped on a stranger's head. The stranger looked up. Not a stranger. Her semi-friend.

'Still a stranger,' she thought.

Met her eyes. Smiled. Pitched forward.

'Will you catch me?' she mused.

'Save Me.'

Three, short words were screamed.

Waste of breath.

"Oh, God no!"

That answers that.

No, it didn't hurt. No, she didn't die before she hit the ground. Didn't even pass out. There were 201'6" feet between her and the ground. She counted windows. Forty three. Those were the only ones she could see. It was breath taking to witness pure sky for twelve seconds.

Then, there was nothing.





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