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Chapter 2

I begin to sweat and a feeling flows through me. A feeling of control, no matter what, this is the end. It is exhilarating, powerful even. Yet, this is the most physically vulnerable I've ever been. I'm moments away from being unable to support my own weight, If the blood loss won't kill me, the fall will.

79.2 metres. 260 feet. I've never been this exposed, this high up before. it is surprising that people can see me, they look like ants. Small and insignificant. their facial features are too blurred to read well. I can see arms waving and people approaching. If I liked attention, I would enjoy this; a crowd of people anticipating my every move. It would be like a drug. a normal person could get high off of the anticipation and attention. but I don't. I have never liked people. The ever-growing number of eyes watching me begins a wave of insecurity. I can feel the humiliation. if I survive this, I'll be labelled the girl who failed.

I'm used to failure. I'm constantly told to do better. even before her death. things were better then. not much better, but better all the same. I could laugh freely and explore my little section of the world without anyone bothering me. I remember it so well. it was the happiest part of my life; the last week before she was gone. Wednesday the 12th of May 2010. that was the last time I spoke to her.

"Jenna, inside. now" she had said, her eyes were green. A precious green. A green that is only seen on the rarest of nights. If you have ever been to the Northern lights and experienced a bright green wonder dance in the sky. then you would know. "who said you could play outside when your room is a state?" she had yelled as I approached her. "it's disgusting. clean it immediately " my mother's long tanned arm was gesturing towards my room. if I had known that these were the last words, I would have ever said to her maybe I would've changed them. "it's not me!" I had yelled "Joe is the one who leaves the clothes lying around"

"this is the fourth time you've blamed Joe today." she pointed out "so Joe left your dress on your floor, Joe slept in your bed and didn't make it huh" she raised her eyebrows at me. I remember it so well. I remember thinking how much I hated her for ruining my playtime in the sand. I remember the fragile lines on her head that appeared whenever she has happy or angry. "go to your room and stay there until its clean"

I remember running up the stairs angry and annoyed that she would ruin my fun. I don't know why I did that. Up until recently I've spent all the time I could in my room. I was eight then, innocent, naïve and bursting with ignorance. if only I closed the door before running in, then it wouldn't have happened. I went to sleep then and there, not bothering to grant her final request. spending the minutes, it took for me to drift away muttering hateful things about the women that would lose her life that night. I can't remember what I dreamed of. the rest of that night's events clouds that particular detail.

I awoke to my sister shaking me awake. She had come in during the time I was asleep. I should have realised it then, when I heard the screams. She was standing over me, her features crumpling, her honey brown eyes threatening to give way to a cascade of tears. "listen, listen" she whispered. "mama..." I can still remember Joanne's shaking. "mama's screaming. JJ what's wrong with Mama" we were both staring at the door.

"stop, stop!" our mothers desperate wails still haunt me ten years later.

My head goes fuzzy, my thoughts are merging into each other. the sudden recollection is bringing tears to my eyes. is it supposed to feel like this? I've never been stabbed before. I giggle to myself. another thing to cross of my bucket list, I guess. the complete numbness in my stomach is evolving into pressure, my unexpected laugh must have moved the knife. this could get messy very fast. the pressure is nothing compared the pain in my head. I need to lie down. the cold wall I have been leaning my back on is stained with my blood. it is amazing how quickly the dark liquid can spread.

I lay my head down onto the ledge. I'm am now lying flat on the edge of a windowsill almost 80 metres high, with the knife that started it all in my stomach. I've been out here for 3 minutes. so why does it feel like more? I've only had the knife in me for thirty seconds. it feels like 3 hours. I met him three months ago, but I can still remember every detail like it was this morning. His hands. His Hair. His laugh. Harry. I could've listened to him talk forever.