Warning, heaving mentions of suicide from beginning to end. Not sure if that'll effect any of you but I feel obliged to warn.
The evening was grey, fittingly so, or so she thought as she sat on the edge of that multi-storied car park in the middle of London. The city lights swam alive and vibrant below her but all she could see of it was tedious existence. She wanted to see the stars again but they were locked behind clouds for as far as her eyes could see. She had never felt so claustrophobic before, not even in collapsing tunnels or sunken bases. But right now the sky pressed down on her, forcing her lower and lower, shackling her to the Earth and strangling the breath out of her long before she could even stomach the word 'jump' rolling off her tongue. Now she repeated it like a chant. Over and over barely a whisper and each time it slipped from her mouth she felt that weight lift ever so slightly. Sure she was that she would not fall but fly. Her mind would be freed and her soul unchained but to reach this end she would first have to jump. And so she found herself rising, her two feet on the edge of oblivion, a thousand snarling beasts waiting to consume her and cold wind caressing her skin raising her gooseflesh in the ever so blessed reminder that she was alive. Just this once and for the last time.
"Jump, jump," she recited and she pictured herself falling, not falling, running. Running fast. What from? It didn't matter. What mattered was the jump in her step, the rapid breathing, the hand clasping hers. "Jump, just jump." she urged herself, stepping closer and biting back the tremble in her lip. She was searching for the thrill that would drive her forward but only found the wind lacing through her fingers where his ought to be, where his would never be again. He had thought he was saving her life but instead he had condemned her to live. She drew blood. Not intentionally and she hadn't realised until the coppery taste of it was swimming plentifully in her mouth. And then everything was so much more real she couldn't bare it. The fall in front of her was and advancing threat, the blood so sickly she began to heave and the wind became and icy viper than left her shivering in her skin. She willed herself away from the edge, stepping backwards, no, tripping, stumbling, landing painfully on her tail bone which would surely be bruised by morning. Despite the pain she shuffled backwards, spitting out the blood as it pooled in her mouth, sobbing openly as she sought to get away from the edge, fearing the oblivion she teased with her presence would not allow her to escape so easily. Her retreat didn't end until she realised it could go no further, her back was pressed against the concrete wall of the stairwell but she couldn't bring herself to rise and flee. After all, how could she flee from herself. If ten minutes ago she craved death, in ten minutes time she could crave it again and what if she wouldn't stop? What if she didn't realise why she should stop? But that was ten minutes away. For the next nine, she'd weep, she'd grieve and she'd cast murmured apologies into the wind, maybe they'd reach the stars on her behalf and somewhere, somewhen, he would hear it and know it true.
A time passed, how long was unknown, but it was night and dark and the clouds had parted. Clara was well beyond weeping point and her eyes were cast downwards, falling heavy as she drifted into sleep. Her hands were weaved into her hair, the only thing keeping her upright as the weight of the evening was pulling her down. The concrete could've been a feather bed for all she cared and she almost gave in. Then a strange hand crept into her hair and stroked her almost lovingly. Clara's hands were soon unwoven from the mess of her hair and she was linked with hers. Strange? They had never held hands before but she knew it was hers. Who else could it be.
"Come with me," Missy urged and somehow she found the strength to obey.
AN: So this will be a two parter, purely because like Clara I feel the pull of sleep. The next and final chapter will be up in a day or so. On a more serious note, this is the first time I've ever written anything on the matter of suicide. I'm incredible ignorant on the topic and if anyone feels I've done a massive disservice to the topic please feel free to inform me. What is life for, if not for learning afterall.