Chapter Twenty-Two:
I looked at her there, dark like a raven against the snowy backdrop. Oh, dear Lord, she was ravishing. Her long, tangled dark hair blew back from her thin white face like a flag. She stood on the precipice, looking down, hearing the invigorating thundering noise of the river far below her feet. I just stood there, watching her, drinking in her beauty, wondering how someone so stunningly attractive could be so completely unhappy. The world is made to think that beauty equals a good happy life. Obviously it isn't true.
I purposefully rustled against the branches of the tree that had concealed me when I emerged. She whipped around, her eyes wide and alive. God, she looked so alive. She looked happier than I'd ever seen her.
"You're Lia." I told her, raising my voice to be heard over the sound of rushing water. She looked at me.
"And you're Trim." she replied, a hint of sarcasm ripening her slightly raspy voice. My heart fluttered a little bit. We stared at each other for a long time. Even from here, I could see the rise and fall of her chest as she inhaled and exhaled, some of her last breaths.
I felt conflicted inside. Here was this girl, a girl who fascinated me, not only with her appearance, but with her connection to me. I'd never met anyone who I immediately felt akin to. Nobody was like us. We were a rare breed, a dying one at that. On one hand, I didn't want her to die because then I would lose the only person like me that I had. I didn't want that to happen. On the other hand, she was unhappy, Deeply unhappy. I understood completely what she was thinking and feeling for I was thinking and feeling it myself. I knew how she longed to leap off the cliff, to feel her life leaving her. I wanted the same thing.
"I want to die, too." I said. She just gazed at me with aquamarine eyes that looked too large for her thin, pale, skeletal face.
"Then......then maybe we can do it together. For so long I've tried to end everything but I could never quite do it. Maybe if we jumped together we could finally end it." she said, her voice a hoarse whisper that managed to carry over the tremendous roar of the water below our feet. I felt a swooping sensation in my abdomen and my heart beat frantically, as if trying to hammer its way out of my chest, a warning, telling me not to do this.
Ba-bump. Don't jump
Ba-bump. Don't jump.
Ba-bump. Don't jump.
"All right." I said, refusing to listen to my heart. What good had my heart ever done for me? It hurt me and lied to me and told me things that I didn't want to hear. Lia looked somewhat relieved.
I walked closer, my footsteps light and careful, like the snow and rock under the soles of my shoes was actually a thin membrane of glass.I came beside Lia. Up close, she looked thin and tired and sad enough that the intense wailing wind could pick her up and whisk her away. I could count the pale freckles dotting her nose and cheekbones; they stood out against her white-as-paper skin.
Lia took my hand. Her own hands were icy cold and dry, much like my own. I could hear the frenzied and staggered hammering of our hearts. Ba-bump-a-deep-bump. Ba-bump-a-deep-bump.Ba-bump-a-deep-bump.
We shifted to the very edge of the cliff and looked below. The water was white and frothy and from this height, looked like whipped cream. Lia's hand squeezed my own hand tighter. Dimly, my ears clogged with slow, sad music, though there was no music being played. I imagined that Lia heard it too. Her thin body swayed and dipped slowly, almost like dancing. She was so beautiful under the moonlight. It was amazing that here I was, worthless Trim Baldwin, with this ethereal, lonesome sprite, waiting for the killing leap.
The wind howled in protest as my toe knocked a stray pebble over the edge.With an almost inaudible clacking noise, it dropped and fell with an invisible plop into the rampant river. It was so cold. I felt small. I felt large. I felt alive. I felt dead. I felt free. I was a blissful oxymoron for a long time, feeling Lia's bitterly cold hand in my own.
"Together?" she asked, her voice small and almost hesitant, though I could tell she wanted to do this so badly. I looked her straight in the eyes.
"Together." I said firmly, giving her hand a squeeze.
When I was born, if I was able to think of my future life, I would never have guessed that I would die at the age of sixteen, holding hands and jumping with a perfect stranger, a girl who I'd barely ever talked to.
"I guess this is goodbye. It's strange: I've waited so long for this and now it's almost hard to let go." she said, more to herself than to me. I nodded, though. I knew precisely what she meant.
"But goodbyes are always sweet. Come on, Lia. Be courageous. Take a leap. We'll take the leap together." I said, my voice like a chain smoker's, tears pooling into my eyes. Lia's own eyes were glossier than normal.
Lia nodded and wrapped her arms around me, hugging me close. I could feel every one of her bones, just like she could feel all of mine.
Then we went back to holding hands, staring down.
"Goodbye." I said solemnly. Lia took a deep breath in and let it out in one short huff, one of her very last.
"Goodbye." she repeated, her voice sounding strong and sure.
Then we lifted our feet and bunched our muscles and our feet were suddenly not on rock anymore, they were floating on air. The wind grew stronger, my hair lifted off of my forehead. It became colder and colder. My breath caught in my throat. I didn't even see Lia, my eyes were watering so much. All I felt was her body against mine, her hand clasped in my own. The wind whipped through my clothes, ripping like a knife blade against my skin.
Then I felt the water, the chill, the shock, the sudden peacefulness that I felt. I no longer felt Lia's hand, though I knew it was still locked with mine. All thought was lost. All feeling was lost. Here it was.
Goodbyes are always sweet. Lia and I welcomed death with open arms and as my body and soul shattered into a million fragments and shards of darkness and peace and emptiness, all I felt and tasted was sweet. And this goodbye was the sweetest of them all.
The End.
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Thirteen
Teen FictionShe's waiting for the day when she can sink the knife a little deeper, throw herself down a little farther. She is tired. She wants rest. She is waiting. He's waiting for the day when his stomach shrinks into nothingness, until he can take his last...
