The Edge

It's a short I wrote for a competition (that I didn't win), and I do know that the ending is decidedly shaky, but I do like the gory descriptions for some reason. So please read and review!

Joe and I stood on the edge. He was standing close, so close I could feel him shaking. We were centimetres away from it. If I took one step, just one step, I’d be over.   

What would it feel like, to fall like that? To feel the wind and the cold stretching my cheeks, pulling at my clothes. I leaned forward, slowly, keeping my feet in one spot. I just wanted to see. Joe grabbed my shoulders, his fingers digging into me.                

“Careful,” he said.

But it was enough. I could taste the cold of the wind on my tongue; could smell what was below. I wanted to be there.

“Let’s do it,” I said.

I turned to face him, and his expression showed a tangle of emotions. For the first time, I felt a true shiver of fear creep up my spine. Goosebumps erupted on my arms. Suddenly, the wind was too strong, the clouds too ominous. And then he smiled, and I forgot about everything. There was nothing, no-one but Joe. That was why we were doing this. We couldn’t stay here, with everyone against us being together. They didn’t see the sensitivity, the perfection that I saw.

I stepped forward, centimetres away from my fate. He took my hand, and my head rested on his shoulder. I felt his lips gently brush my forehead. After that it was all very fast. I half turned, my face a mask of shock, but I was already hurtling through the air, limbs flailing wildly. The wind rushed past me, stinging my eyes, drawing tears, but all I could see, feel was Joe... pushing me. In that last moment I saw no care, no compassion, none of the love he’d claimed to have for me.

It was nothing like I’d imagined. The fall stretched out endlessly. I didn’t feel free; I was trapped by a cage of air, throwing me around like a rag doll. I remember nothing of the impact: my fragile body crashing against those deadly rocks. All I can draw to mind is that petrifying, dizzying drop, and the silent scream that choked me.

And then the sky turned black.

By the time I woke, the sun had left the sky, bathing my surroundings in a blanket of impenetrable darkness. I tasted blood, filled with the salt water that stained my cheeks. A sharp pain ripped through my body at the end of each agonizing breath.

I quickly realised that I was lying at the bottom of the cliff, still alive (but only just) and that hours had passed already. No-one had found me in this living hell. Maybe they weren’t looking. My clothes stuck to me, caked in blood and dirt. Dried blood. Bile rose in my throat as I wondered how much I’d lost. I rolled onto my side to let it escape over the muddy ground. Wet, matted tendrils of hair stuck to my cheeks, and I finally noticed I was covered in a sheen of cold sweat.

Tears trickled down my bloodstained cheeks as I remembered. Everything came flooding back, a tidal wave that would have knocked me off my feet, had I been standing. I wasn’t sure I could. And the last thing I wanted to do was look at my legs.

Mist swirled around my resting place; I was bent at an impossible angle, squashed up against a razor sharp boulder. Every part of me ached, and I drifted in and out of consciousness until dawn, when my eyes snapped open abruptly. Well, there was no point in just lying there helplessly. I sneaked a glance at the mangled, bloody mess that was my legs. Bent forwards, my right leg was obviously broken, but my left leg might be stable.

Bracing my back against my boulder, I dragged my feet to a position that half resembled standing. But the strain was too great, it would be impossible to move with no support. My left leg, marred by 3 long gashes, was not going to support me, especially not climbing back up a cliff. Oh no...Climbing back up. Fear clenched at my insides, and a ringing sound entered my...right ear. Gingerly, I reached up and brushed the wet, numb hole where my left ear had been. It was gone. Collapsing to the ground, I cried. The sobs raked my whole body and the tears escaped until there were none left. I wished I was dead. I wished the fall had killed me like it should have. Because I had no doubt that Joe had intended to kill me. But why? I’d never done anything wrong...

In fact, I’d defended him when my father was murdered, because I knew Joe would never...Or would he? I didn’t know any more. At the time, I had assumed that all fingers were pointed at him through prejudice, because he was practically a stranger. Or did they see something I didn’t? After that, mum told me to stay away from him, but I hadn’t listened. I should have.

And then, 5 months ago, we’d started planning our jump.

How could committing suicide have seemed so attractive? I knew why, It was because it was with him. I would have done anything for Joe. Even through the lies and deception, I knew I still loved him.

Suddenly, bright lights blinded me; a helicopter emerged from behind the cliff. A ladder fell down and several figures came towards me.

“Stephanie, Stephanie, Oh Gosh, is she OK?” My mum’s panicked voice babbled on, and I closed my eyes. How easy it would be to fall asleep...But would I ever wake up?

 

The hospital was light and airy, with a clinical smell of disinfectant. I was lying on a hard mattress, with a monitor beeping beside me, and a curtain drawn on my right side. I tried to sit up...a bad idea.

“What happened?” My mum asked someone. She and a doctor entered the room. I pretended to be asleep.

“He stole a car, as if that wasn’t evidence enough of his guilt,” he said gravely, “Yes, he pushed her, but he swears it was an accident.” If only I could believe that.

“Is he still out cold?”

“Yes.”

“No,” His soft velvety voice had a harsh edge to it; it hit me like a punch in the face.

“Joe,” I breathed.

“She’s alive?” Joe gasped, incredulous.

“Yes.”

Joe’s shadow, on the other side of the curtain; stood up and walked round to me. His eyes were cold, distant.

“Why?” I sobbed, it was only then I realised I was crying.

“You really don’t know, do you? That your precious Daddy was a murderer! He killed my father; they were in a car: and your Dad was driving. And then they crashed!” His eyes glinted with malice.

“You killed my father.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah. My mum was already dead, I had no-one! I was left alone; to fend for myself, no-one CARED!” His voice rose to an angry shout; tears glistened in his eyes.

“So why kill me?” I asked.

He shrugged. “It was getting old- you worshipping me- or rather, who you thought I was.”

“You lied to me,” I whispered, “You never cared.”

“Of course not,” laughed Joe, “I had to get you to trust me, so I would have the opportunity for revenge!”

“But- it must have been an accident- he wouldn’t have meant to crash the car. He wasn’t a murderer. But you are.”

“I’ll call the police,” muttered the doctor, and rushed outside.

My mum looked horrified.

“Steph, maybe we should go outside,” she ventured.

I gestured to the fact that I was hooked up to several different machines and was incapacitated by needles. Plus, I didn’t think I could walk anyway.

My mum chewed on her bottom lip anxiously as we waited in silence for the police to come. Joe never tried to run. I guess he knew there was no use. And when the police arrived, he let them take him away, without complaining. In fact, as they handcuffed him, I swear I saw him smiling.

I never saw Joe again. 

 

Author's Note

The first 4 paragraphs were written by the competition site, so there's not really much I can do about them. However, all criticism is welcome, whether constructive or not!