She was standing there, in the plittering, pelting rain
Eighteen stories up, a metaphor
And her arms, spread eagle, two broken wings

The rain droplets hissed at her hair, and she ran one slender finger across her jaw, her skin shivering in the life the storm brought her.

Her jaws were hard, wide, gaping open like a nutcracker
As the rain began to attack her
I wanted to save her, grab her
The frail child, facing her Master

And as she stood there, screaming, beaming, I reached out and touched her shoulder, and I whispered, and she listened, though she never stopped shouting.

“Why are you here?” I asked
Trying to peer beneath her fearless mask

But as I reached out to touch her soul, she turned with a face white as leprosy and shouted into the open, accepting air

“I’m not afraid of the fall anymore!”

I tried to touch her face
Blank as an untarnished page
But she took my hands and bit them with rage
And then told me, “I’m past the point of being saved”
And she laughed desperately into the rain

I began to tell her of the people who would be heartbroken if she jumped off the ledge
But she only shook her head, already half-dead, and then she said
“At least it would prove I have power over them.”

“But they would be devastated!” I argued with the closed door
She chuckled and replied, “I cannot love them. I cannot love them anymore.”

“What do you mean?” I screamed back, “The people you sit with in the back of church, the people you eat lunch with every day in the cafeteria, the people you study with at midnight, the people you wrote poetry with – you cannot love them?”

Her words tore my heart
And that was when the realization truly began to start.

“I do not love people; I use them.
I do not hug people; I bruise them.
I make them fall in love with me
But use them for my twisted greed
I don’t want them or their affection
All I ever wanted was attention
To prove I can control their hearts
It’s become my favorite form of art
To lead them on, then leave them behind
A desperate need of my sickened mind
Because if they cry when I leave them there
At least it proves I was powerful enough to make them care!”

Her toes dangled over the edge, and I saw the war inside her fragile frame.
I wanted to strike a chord in some part of her soul, but how could I, if she had none?

She was shaking – her whole body, tremoring – as she beat her fists in the wind. “I’ve never had a boyfriend, and do you know why? I’ve never wanted one! I’ve only wanted me! I leave my ‘friends’ after a while, because there is satisfaction in knowing I had enough control over them to make them grieve my absence! And maybe sometimes the reason I run is because I want to know who will follow me into the darkness! I live for no one but myself, and I would have it no other way!”

I watched her chest heave with passion,
her demons surrounding her in a dreadful fashion,
waiting to harvest her soul, once she leaped from the roof
Hell’s living and dying proof.

“If you live for no one else, then live for me,” I wept, clawing at her skin
And trying to kill the monsters within.

She smiled at me, rotting pink flesh stretched across cynical teeth, and whispered, “I already do.”

One split-second, and then

I watched myself take the leap.

The End

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