I can see everything from up here. The city expands below me, the sky stretching on forever, and I don't even blink because I want to see everything that I'm leaving behind.

I can hear the traffic on the busy roads; I can catch the blend of a hundred different voices drifting up towards my ears. I can almost taste the atmosphere of relief and regret, of forgiveness and anger, and I can't explain it. I wish I could.

This world is wonderful, and I can't believe that I'm leaving.

I can't believe anything.

One more step, just a little closer to the edge.

It seems nearly impossible that, just a week ago, I was happy. I was smiling and laughing and I wasn't thinking about you. Where did it all go wrong? I told myself that I didn't care anymore; I told myself that you had her, and that you were happy. Why did you have to leave me? I know that you weren't mine, not at the end, but I was yours.

I'm never going to forget.

Your funeral- what a horrible word- is tomorrow, and I can't do it. I can't watch it happen.

Well, I guess it doesn't matter if you wanted to be cremated or not. They couldn't find enough of your ashes to bury.

I'm shocked by the thought; it sounds so horrible, even in my head. Because you're dead. Dead. Dead. How could two words, nine simple letters, kill me inside. You're dead.

"Miss Edwards," they call. Of course they know my name. I don't bother to look at them. "Miss Edwards, please, step away from the edge."

When Juliet woke and found her lover dead beside her, there was only one option, however stupid and rash. She had to follow him.

"Step away from the edge," they call again. Instead, I step closer.

"Miss Edwards!"

And then a different, familiar voice, "Clare! Clare!"

I don't look at them. Another step, and the toe of my shoe is hanging over empty air.

I love him, but I hate him. My entire life has been narrowed down to a single contradiction. I love him because I have to, and I hate him because he left me.

He wasn't mine. He was hers.

I can hear footsteps, and I know they're trying to get to me, trying to reach me before I jump. Of course, I'm not going to jump.

I'm going to fall.

The air seems so thick, like it could support me. All I need is a little… push.

I search for the appropriate last words. I don't want to die without meaningless syllables on my lips, as cliché as it sounds.

The words spring past my lips before I can stop them.

"Now or never," I whisper, and then I laugh.

And I'm falling through air, and my life isn't flashing before me. All I can see is your face, your eyes. I can see you smirking, and I can hear your voice, but I can't make out the words.

I didn't jump. I fell.

I fell for you.

The two and a half seconds it takes for me to fall through the empty air stretch into an eternity, but at the same time flash by in an instant.

Now or never.

000

A/N: One more effing day, damn it.

Oneshot. As in, don't add to story alerts, because I'm not going to continue this.

In the spirit of Now or Never! (And no, I don't actually think that Clare's going to kill herself. Why would she?)

Review. Now or never.