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High Drama

Hillman stood on the edge of the balcony, his back pressed against the railings. The street was ten storeys below, and from up here the people looked like dots of colour flowing along some unseen stream to their ultimate destination. Hillman knew what his destination was. He knew that he was going to step off the balcony and let gravity drag him down, down, down until he became a dot of colour on the ground below. All that he had to do was have the courage to take that one, last step. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and ... .

"Hi."

The voice from behind startled Hillman. He opened his eyes and looked back to see a young woman with red hair and dressed in a blue skirt-suit.

"You shouldn't do that!" Hilton gasped. "You almost made me -"

"Jump?" the woman said. "I thought that was what you wanted to do?"

Hillman nodded. "Yes. And you can't talk me out of it."

"Are you sure?" the woman asked. "I can be very persuasive when I want to be." She gave Hillman a smile that might have charmed the birds from the trees.

Hillman shook his head. "Yes. I've made up my mind."

"That's a pity," said the woman. "Well, can I watch?"

Hillman couldn't believe that he had heard the woman right. "Watch?" He asked. "Why?"

"I just want to make sure you get it right. So many people make a mess of these things, and I don't want you to suffer. Well, not for longer than necessary."

"It doesn't matter." Hillman turned back to looking at the ground. "I've already suffered enough. This will end it all. Take me to a better place." He closed his eyes again.

"No. It will only take you to oblivion. There will be nothing of you after this, apart from sad memories held by those you left behind."

"I don't care. Even oblivion is better!" There was a hysterical edge to Hillman's voice.

"No. It isn't. It really isn't." Hillman felt a hand on his shoulder. He wanted to flinch, but some last vestige of self-preservation stopped him. "You could do so much more, Hillman."

"How do you know my name?"

"I know lots of things about you, Hillman," the redhead said. "I know about your first love, your first kiss. I know how you broke your arm when you were ten and how you gave up smoking four times before it worked. I know your pain. I know your soul."

"Then where were you when I needed you?" Hillman screamed.

"I was always there," the redhead said. "But you never called on me until now."

"Called on you?"

"Oh yes." Her voice became like honey. "Now you've called me, I will be there for you, Hillman. I will help you become what you need to be. I will take your pain and turn it into a brilliant diamond that illuminates the world. I will give you a legacy."

"How?" Hillman felt a spark of hope, but quickly extinguished it. He had been promised much, but given nothing.

"Take my hand," the woman commanded. "Let me show you."

Hillman felt his hand move of its own accord, reaching back for the woman, taking her hand in his. "I don't want to die," he whispered.

"And you won't. Not yet."

Hillman climbed back over the railing.