The wind blows my hair. I’m standing on the edge again, looking out over the sea. In my mouth rises a salty taste. I’m crying.

This place is so special to me, to us. But now there is no us.

It still feels like yesterday we were standing on top of this cliff together. My head resting on your shoulder, your arm wrapped my shoulder. I was crying then too. How I wish it was yesterday, but the reality couldn’t be further from it.

Two years ago, we went on a trip to Italy. To the same place I’m standing right now. This beautiful hike through quaint villages and along the cliffs. And right here, you pulled at my hand, you had stopped walking. The closest town still a few miles away. Nobody would see us here. I looked over my shoulder and was met with your beautiful but nervous face.

You reached for my other hand. I turned to face you and placed my hand in yours. This is where you went down on one knee and gave the best speech of your life. This is where I said yes, with my whole heart. And this is where I stand now, with my heart shattered into a million pieces.

After the proposal we stood right here, soaking in the last bit of sunlight and enjoying the sunset. No sounds other than waves hitting the rocks and birds settling in for the night. And now it’s dead silent, apart from a slight breeze. Not even the waves are audible.

I try my hardest to remember every little detail of that day. The way your hair tickled my bare shoulder. How the scent of your perfume had faded throughout the day. How cool your fingers felt on my arm. And now, nothing but the scents of nature and the feeling of my jacket because of the cool breeze.

What I didn’t know then is that I would come to cherish this day most of all. Because, you didn’t make it to our wedding day.

Just weeks after our trip, we went to the hospital. And we got the worst news. Life expectanty? 14 months. By some miracle you made it another 6. Instead of the big wedding day that we wanted, just a small courthouse ceremony. “Till death do us apart.”

We made the most of the time that we got. And when we got the news on the extra months we got together, we wanted to plan a wedding day. But alas, we were too optimistic. Days before the big day you took a turn for the worse. And instead of our families getting together to celebrate us, we celebrated you.

I tried to mourn you, every way I can. I tried to move on, like you asked me to. But I couldn’t. When you left, you took all of the light of my life with you. And in one last attempt to stop myself from drowning in the grief, I came here. Hoping it would make me feel better, feel lighter. But instead, I feel heavier than ever.

Till death do us apart. And in death, we small meet again.

The wind blows my hair. I’m standing on the edge again, my torn, off-white dress billowing out around me. A tunnel of blinding, bright light shines before me, beckoning me like a lullaby, and I swear I would cry if I still could. Legs straining, teeth clenched, I try to fight the heavy gusts, to reach out and touch that sweet sunlight, behind which I know paradise waits.

I am so close. I can hear the nightingales lilting, the people laughing. Feel the soft grass beneath my burning skin. The pounding pain in my head almost begins to ease, and my mind screams relief at the thought of rest. Reaching out, I see flashes of a new life race through my mind and for a split, blissful second, I actually think I’ve made it.

Then the corners of my vision go blurry. My joints buckle. Coarse wind slams into me, pushing me away from the light. Just like every other time I’ve tried to cross over for the past thirteen years.

“WHY?” My yell is muffled, as if my mouth were covered in dirt. Screaming and sobbing, clawing at the ground, I watch the glowing spirit of an old man climb effortlessly toward glory, his stance unwavering and triumphant. My own hands are dim, dusty, and pathetic in comparison.

The wind is still blowing as I walk the misty streets of my hometown, after the sun has gone to bed. Sometimes another figure will pass by—a jogger with a pickle green jacket and a dog, a grandparent with a stroller full of kids in princess dresses—and I will smile, only to remember I am completely invisible to them. And then I weep tears that aren’t really there and never will be. One would think I’d be accustomed to being dead by now, but not a day goes by that I don’t wonder. How long do I have until I fade away completely, until I am no longer a ghost, or even a distant memory? How long until I am simply an impression of energy, lost to the crying wind?

The wind blows in my hair. I’m standing at the edge again. The clamor of the city streets below can be heard even from up here, but it’s still peaceful. The wind is cool against my cheeks, a gentle caress as I take a slow, deep breath. I never remember making the slow climb up the apartment complex’s stairs to the roof. I can’t think back to shoving open the door that insists on putting up a fight every time anyone tries to get past it. I just blink, and the next think I know I’m looking down at a bustling street 50 feet below. Sometimes I wonder what would hapen if I decided to let myself sway with the wind. A gust could come and I might stumble back, getting a few scrapes on my hands from the rough concrete before I stand up and dust myself off. Or the gale could push me forward, the force that final shove that tips me over the lip and into the mess of traffic and blaring car horns. In the end I know I won’t let myself hand my fate to the air. I can’t. I have a life, friends, family, a job, and countless responsibilities. If I let myself slip, I’d be letting them and everyone who ever believed in me down. So I take a step back, take another deep breath, and start back down the steps to my apartment. Not today. Not yet.

The wind blows my hair. I’m standing on the edge again. One more step and I’ll fall into the crashing waves below. Somehow, this place is the most peaceful to me right now. _Mom used to love it here. _The thought makes me want to cry. I miss her. The woman who held me when I hurt but also never stopped pushing me to be better. Her disappearance two years ago rocked my whole world. I had no one to take care of me but a long lost relative I’d never met before. At only 16 I was too young to take care of if myself, but after turning 18 a few months ago and graduating shortly after, I moved back into the house. My real home is gone now though. Now I stand on the cliffs overlooking the ocean a few miles away from the house. Phantoms dance in the wind, their laughter weaving through my thoughts. One step…it would be easy. But life isn’t meant to be easy. So instead I turn away from the past and think about what I want to do tomorrow.

The wind blows my hair, I’m standing on the edge again. The bitter cold whips against my frame, my toes dig into the black rock underneath my feet. Far below me the ocean rages, her high white waves crash into the cliff and rocks. I feel the rumble through the ground, the crash of sea against earth, so very slowly eroding away at slate and rock. I breathe in, the crisp air almost burning my lungs. I breathe out, and fall.

The wind lashes at my bare skin like ice as I plummet, it nips and bites as I outstretch my arms. The ocean roars louder and louder. I close my eyes.

And unfold my wings. Russet feathers reach out and slow my drop, I feel the frigid splash of water against my cheek as my wings catch the air and pull me up. I soar past the high engulfing waves, foamy water rising as if to catch me. But I’m faster. My wings beat against the raging wind, strong and powerful. I make it past the jagged rocks and black beaches, past the torrential coastal waters and out to calmer open sea.

I sail through the sky, riding the current of wind and water, towards home once more.

The wind blows in my hair I’m standing On the edge Again Looking down At the Far Far Drop

No one could stop me this time This isn’t the first time “Life changes” They say “It’ll get better” They say No It’s not true

I thought of everything And stepped away There’s people I love People who love me People who need me I couldn’t leave them I couldn’t give up Not today Not ever

The wind blows my hair I’m standing on the edge again.

The edge Overlooks the sea The one you and I watched The day we met

The edge Overlooks the sea You dared me to jump into A month later

I promised you I wouldn’t.

The edge Overlooks the sea Which I failed to listen to When it was warning me

The edge Overlooks the sea Which you left me for

You jumped I watched you fall Thinking you would Swim right back to me

My mother told me You were a brave fish once But a shark entered your life And ate you whole

Now I fear The shark is near once again But your words “Be strong” “You can swim” “Like no one else.”

Leave me standing here Wind blowing in my hair Watching the cold, blue sea Ripple repeatedly

Without you, I feel broken

But without you, I will keep my promise.

I won’t jump. ❤️

Nearly three months at this point, yet I still don’t believe it’s been that long of a time period, me and my boyfriend at the time had peer pressured my best friend into trying if this stupid spell from this magical book she’d found in detention one fateful day. The spell happened to be real. Two months later I found her favorite pin in the middle of the road which ended up being the only last trace of her ever. Shortly after my boyfriend had committed due to the guilt he had felt since the only reason Valerie kept the book is because she knew he loved magic. The gelid wind sent a chill up my spine as I looked down. The building is higher up as I had expected. The wind blew through my long hair which used to be a bright blue but not was a faded greenish color. I had stood on this edge one too many times for a teenager. My legs and hands trembled as I thought of reasons to not listen to the voice in the back of my head but I couldn’t find any. This is my kismat. This roof. This time. This day. I dangled my left foot over the chilled air that laid like a carpet infront of me. My eyes closed unconsciously and squeezed themselves shut as I thought. 200 reasons to die. I heard a voice behind me and I turned my head to look at the person. 1 reason to live. I thought as I stepped back. The lady spoke. “Bethany what are you doing all the way up here you said you were using the restroom!” Vianna, Valerie’s little sister spoke to me. She’s only about seven. I had told her mother that I could take her out somewhere so that she could fill out more paperwork on Valerie. I’d totally forgotten that I just left her at the kids table.

Maybe I should take a break from this roof. She needs me.

Concrete, so rough round the edge, Faith could feel the pool’s rim through her sneakers’ soles. Toes over the edge, she wavered. The day started like any other. Owen had eaten the last Pop Tart. Again Howie barfed in the laundry room and Faith nearly missed the school bus. She was reading and rereading her composition on To Kill The Mockingbird and didn’t notice the whispers.

Hurrying to Mrs. Evans’ class Faith saw Steve and Lindy pointing at her. Faith waved and they turned away. In fact everyone in the crowded hallway seemed to avoid her eyes. Walking into AP Bio Faith checked if she had jam on her tee shirt.

“How could you have done that to Stevie? Spill the tea, sister,” Molly whispered when Faith sat down at their lab bench.

Faith gave her best friend a blank stare. Molly rolled her eyes. Mrs. Evans’ gave them that look and both girls opened their textbooks. Under the cover of the four chambered heart Molly showed Faith the post. It was a video of Faith pretending to be a newscaster spewing disgusting anti-gay slurs about Steve and another classmate Gareth. In the video Faith said the two boys were hooking up in the choir band closet. Faith had known Steve since kindergarten. They weren’t super close now but she knew Steve was gay; she knew he had a crush on Gareth, the star basketball player was hot as hell. And Faith knew she hadn’t made this video, hadn’t spoken those words.

“Faith Reed, report to Vice Principal Cannon’s office. Faith Reed, report to Vice Principal Cannon’s office.”

On numb legs Faith headed from the classroom. Every eye was turned on her. Billy Martin snickered. Ruby whispered Faith was a troll. Faith’s eyes burned. The rest of the day slid down a cliff. Vice-Principal Cannon didn’t even listen to Faith’s side of things. Instead he droned on and on about the school’s safe internet policy. This had to be some kind of deep fake AI thing.

By third period Faith heard that Gareth had punched Steve and Gareth had been suspended under the zero violence policy. During fourth period Faith saw Steve’s parents picking Steve up from the side of the school. His face swollen, both eyes already blackening, Steve stared at her as he climbed into the back of his parents’ SUV and was driven away.

Her head buried in a book, Faith sat alone during lunch. Molly texted Faith to keep her head up and that she knew Faith would never say those things. Becky and Megs called Faith some kind of Nazi. Steve just texted her the word, “why?” Her phone wouldn’t stop vibrating from the texts and comments. Finally Faith couldn’t take one more glare. Behind the exercise mats, she hid in the gym equipment area.

Now she was on the edge of the pool. The pool room was locked but she knew the door’s key pad number. Coach Williams was a 49ers fan, so 1849 was easy enough. Faith took a half inch step closer over the edge. Somehow half the school had been given her phone number. The school had called her dad at work and a meeting had already been scheduled. She could already see the disappointment in his face. She’d seen it enough. Who could have gotten access to her account? Who knew her well enough to destroy her? Chlorine wafted up stinging her nose running into her tears. Faith wavered.

The wind blows my hair I’m standing on the edge again I no longer have a single care It’s time to finally see my old friend