I ran as quickly as I could to the river. I hadn't been out of the house in at least a week, but it didn't feel good. I felt unprotected. Vulnerable.
The river was at least two miles from our house, if not more, but I wasn't afraid of the run. I ran as fast as my legs would take me until I reached it. It was filled with thick, rushing water and strong currents. It would be perfect for what I was going to do. I ran along the edge, looking for the perfect place. It needed to be able to carry it away easily.
I made it halfway along the edge until the wooden bridge and found it. It had tall rocks that created thick currents, deep enough to drown any person who might unwillingly fall in. I reached into my bag and pulled out my sketchbook and charcoals. I didn't want to see them again. The day after the convention I had vowed never to draw again, but as long as I owned these items, I would be tempted.
I took a deep breath, held out my arms, and let go.