****

It's raining. There's mud on my shoes and I'm breathing hard. I take a handful of earth from the grave I made and mull it between my palms. I wonder if her grave will be my own. I can't get the blood off my hands, no matter how hard I try. I made too many mistakes. My clothes will be found in the area. I called her too recently. I shouldn't have gone. If it hadn't been that moment, this would all be a bad dream. I shake myself, hit the wall, scream. It's real and I know it too well. I've gone too far. I haven't gone far enough. The only way they won't find me is if I'm gone;gone forever. Heights put me on edge but I think how ironic that is as I stand on the edge of the world. I can't do it. Ashamed, I turn to step back down, but I slip. It's raining and the stone is slick with water and the mud from my shoes. As I fall I realize it wasn't that ironic.