On the Edge

Prologue

She lies beneath rugged cliffs that glow ochre and orange in the photos on the postcards the tourists buy in summer.

Tonight they are an inky blue. A full moon is suspended overhead like a fortune-teller’s ball, casting a glow over her delicate face, illuminating her profile with a fine silver thread.

Every twenty seconds, a beam of light sweeps across the vast ocean, a warning to sailors to avoid this treacherous stretch of coastline that has already claimed too many lives.

Waves rise up and crash onto jagged rocks.

Frigid water seeps into the denim of her jeans, the thin cotton of her shirt. The tide is coming in.

She is slipping away. She feels cold.

There’s a presence above her.

Breathing. Fast and heavy. Hot on her face.

And everything fades to black.