breathe.

unheroic [she]

She looked over the ledge of the roof and noticed the cars zipping by. The pedestrians below only ants to her vision.

She had been thinking of doing this for months. She had countless notes written to her family, her friends, her boyfriend. But she never had the courage... until now.

She constantly told her mother and father how she felt about her life. But the numerous times she did, they waved her off with a simple "get over it" and went on with their own "perfect" lives. If you call perfect fighting everyday.

It was too much to bear. She couldn't. She wouldn't. This was the end.

Her foot slid closer to the edge and gravel scuttled off the roof. Her brain was frazzled with thoughts of doubt and hope that things would get better. But that would never happen; she was unhappy, and was damn sure she was dragging everyone down with her misery, too.

Her foot was off the ledge when her phone vibrated from her pocket. She quickly put her foot back and looked at her phone. Her sister was calling.

She pressed the talk button and waited. She felt like this conversation was needed before she considered anything.

"Hello?" she answered in a raspy tone.

"Don't do it," her sister warned, with fear in her voice. "I don't wanna lose you. Please don't leave me."

"I'm sorry," she said, tears stuck in her throat. "Tell everyone I said I love them, okay? Be strong for me."

"No! Don't—" she hung up the phone and tossed it aside.

She looked over the ledge and noticed the same scenery from above the skyscraper. She closed her eyes and held her breath.

"1...2...3," she whispered.

Then, she jumped.