Fiction, Health and wellbeing, Melbourne, Writing

On the edge

She stands on the edge.

Fear courses through her veins. Every inch of her body feels alive. Ironic, that this moment is when she can taste vigour, life. That now, finally, she thinks she can function.

Peeking over the precipice, she see the cerulean bay. Looking towards the horizon, the magnificent sea of blue stretches until it meshes with the grey of the sky. To her right, the peninsula curves like a comma; she can almost see blades of grass swaying in the wind.

Now. Do it now.

She leans.

No! Abolish those thoughts! Bury them deep. Live, love, breathe.

She stands back, straightens her spine, as if the tip of her head can touch the cloud hovering above.

Jump.

Go home.

The contradicting voices battle within, creating a swirling tide of emotions. She leans forward again, her toes are on the edge. Her top half quivers in fear. She lets herself veer even more. The cliff is rocky, sharp.

Good girl. Just let yourself fall.

She takes a breath, ready to drop.

‘Don’t jump!’

The voice comes from behind her. Too late; her feet leave the ground and she tumbles forward. She spins, free falling through the air. Her mind is clear. She is free, at last.

Free. Her last thought before her body crashes against the rocks.

Photo by Jordan Irving on Unsplash

11 thoughts on “On the edge”

    1. Aw, thanks so much Brian. The first draft of this finished with the owner of the voice saving her. But I backspaced it all away, instead having her jump. It was hard, but mental health battles are real for some and there’s not always a happy ending.

      Liked by 2 people

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