Chapter 1
Grace
I might actually die this time.
This thought has never crept up on me before—and it almost kills the invigorating buzz I came here to chase.
I can’t let this happen, especially now that it is too late. I shouldn’t let it happen. But still, my focus shifts, unable to resist the sinister pull of mortal fear.
This doesn’t feel right. The fall has never been this long, the strain on my body has never been this fierce as the wind tears on every part of me, my dress, my hair, the skin on my face.
Did I miscalculate?
Will this be my last day on Earth?
They’ve all been saying I would kill myself one day, even though death was never my intention. Quite the opposite actually. I don’t want to die. I want to feel alive. And this is the only way I know how. This and the cuts on my skin, adorning my body in places only I can see. I don’t know how to live without this pain, this exhilarating thrill and the danger that comes with it. I need it just like I need to breathe.
But I always knew it could happen. Every single time my feet leave the security of the earthen ground and I leap into the abyss—I always knew it could be my last jump. It might not even be death that awaits me, but something worse. A body so crippled that I could never choose to plunge again, caged in my own skin while I rot away in a hospital bed. A nightmare like no other.
Could I really be so stupid?
Panic overshadows the sweet bliss of excitement, sending me into a fearful frenzy just split seconds before my feet meet the icy water. Impact always means pain, but that is what I’m here for. I fly to feel—and I crash to feel.
But the pain is no more severe than usual. The fall may have been a little higher, the cliff less predictable than others, but the water meets me with the same reassuring softness that always welcomes me at the bottom.
I’m almost disappointed, because this means the best part is over. The sound of the hissing wind is replaced with the smothering echo of the liquid depth as the ocean encircles me, pulling me down for just a few moments before it will spit me back up.
I craved this security when I jumped for the first time, and my arms were moving with urgency to bring me up for air. The first leap wasn’t the best, but the most terrifying—until today. That moment of panic I felt just before I hit the water was more intense and almost too overwhelming to bear.
And now—for the moment—it’s gone.
I stretch my arms out to the sides, relishing the gentle pull that drags me down into darkness. As furious and untamed as the water may be on the surface, down here it’s oddly quiet. I can hear the blood pumping through my veins, I can hear the distinct rush of water making room for me and I can feel the chilling sea caressing my skin.
I always choose the same white summer dress to jump, because I love the way the light fabric encircles my body as I stand up on the cliff, preparing myself to leap. I love its almost weightless presence while I’m flying, and I love the way it practically disappears once I reach the water. It’s almost as if the dress dissolves into nothingness—just like I would love to sometimes.
But I never vanish. Every fiber of my being yearns to live, and once my lungs start screaming for air, I can no longer savor the bliss that comes with being swallowed by the sea. I’m a slave to my will to survive, and the fight back to safety is part of this experience just as much as the drop itself.
Only this time, it doesn’t come as easy as expected. The water is holding me back when I try to bring myself up to the surface. A current stronger than any I ever encountered before is pulling at my legs and holding me in place, no matter how vigorously I move my arms. It’s the second time today that I’m filled with unwanted panic, but this time it’s even worse, because I’m trapped in darkness and bereft of oxygen.
The sea is as beautiful as it is terrifying in its unpredictability—and today, I might fall victim to this toxic allure. Another surge of terror ties its lace around my throat as I struggle to free myself of the current’s unyielding hold.
I won’t make it. I can’t.
I will die today.
That realization becomes manifest when something snakes around my wrist, only tightening its unwanted grip as I try to shake it off. I’m close to passing out and blinded by fear—before I realize that it is someone’s hand.
A hand that is pulling me upward