Chapter Two

The waves crashed angrily against the rocks below, reaching up the sides of the cliff as if they were itching to pull me down with them. The wind blew through my ponytail, tossing it in all directions and sending a chill down my spine. I felt my body relax as I stood at the edge of the cliff, my toes barely hanging off the edge.

It wasn't that I was an anxious person, I was far from it actually. I hadn't met any one of my fears yet. Standing at the edge of that cliff, though, it felt like all my anxieties vanished. I was here, a step away from my death, and I never wanted to leave.

It felt as if I was in the middle of a storm, but there was no rain. I was sure that if the wind was flowing in the opposite direction that it would throw me from the cliff, but with the direction it was taking it seemed to be the only thing keeping me from plummeting down.

I stepped from the edge, over to a large rock. I sat down, pulling off my tennis shoes and socks, tucking them between the rocks and trees. If I was to do this I wasn't sure why I cared if my shoes were safe from the water, but for some reason I didn't want to lose them. Maybe I left them there so my foster family would be able to figure out what happened to me.

The minute my socks were off and my feet hit the cold rock below, I shivered. I loved the cold dearly, though not as much as the waves below. I could smell the intoxicating salt emitting from the ocean underneath me. It overwhelmed my senses, sending a sick but rare smile to my face.

I let the cold wind lap against my skin through my baggy sweater. I didn't try and protect myself from the gust. The sky was lit in a beautiful array of colors; purple, pink, orange. The sun was falling into the sea, moving so slowly it was like watching clock hands.

I stood at the edge once more, letting my toes curl around the sharp rock edge. I spread my arms out, welcoming death into my embrace.

I knew that if I jumped head first I would most likely die on impact. I didn't want that. I had always dreamed of drowning, the air being pulled from my lungs and then falling into a deep sleep I would never awake from. If I jumped feet first it might break my ankles or legs, which would be painful, but it would keep me from swimming away.

A stick snapped behind me, making me take a quick step back. I searched the forest behind me, only seeing a flit of something ashy brown in the trees. I shook my head, annoyed at my being spooked by a bird or squirrel.

I turned back to the sea, the sun was almost completely set now. It was getting darker by the second. I counted down as the sun sank lower, wanting to jump just as the sun disappeared. I leaned forward, letting the balls of my feet hang over the cliffs edge.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

I was so startled by the voice that if the person wouldn't have wrapped an arm around me I would have fell. The person pulled me a couple feet away from the cliff's edge before letting me go.

After the initial shock of the person's presence, all I felt was intense rage. I turned on the person, looking up at the man with hatred burning through my veins. I wasn't anything scary compared to the guy who was probably a foot taller than me, but when I turned on him he stumbled back slightly.

He was gorgeous honestly, football player body and all. He was tall and buff, his hair cropped short unlike most of the people on the Reservation. Something about his face had this boyish glow about it, though, like he was younger than his stature let on. Despite his shocked expression, I could tell he was kind just by his eyes. He looked like the carbon copy of the main love interest in every single new age high school romance movie I've ever seen, the kind nerdy best friend that turned out to be the love of the girl's life.

And I hated him for it.

Who was he to decide when my life should end or continue? He was gorgeous and probably had the whole world at his fingertips. Everyone probably bent to his every wish and plea. He couldn't possibly have understood loss, or death. And he stood here, pulling me away from something that I've wanted for so long.

The anger inside me took over my actions, I shoved him away from me. He didn't budge, which made me even angrier. I turned on my heels, stomping away from him into the forest. Tears of frustration welling up in my eyes as I grabbed my shoes from behind the rock.

"Wait!" he called out from behind me. I did not stop, swiftly passing through the one-track trail back down to the road. He was obviously more skilled at moving through the woods than me though, as he caught up to me in seconds. He grabbed my free hand, yanking my backwards so I was facing him.

I ripped my hand from his grip, shocked at the heat coming from his palms. A shock sent through me, from my palm to my chest. I ignored the sensation, glowering up at him.

"Do not touch me," I spat at him. Honestly, I have never talked much, but my mother used to say I had the most intense voice she had ever encountered. She told me everything I said held such a passion that it could knock people off their feet.

And with the shock the man displayed at the sound of my voice, I was guessing she was right.

He stared at me for a long moment before I scoffed and turned away. I stomped through the woods, so incredibly outraged. Underneath the anger, though, was this feeling of absolute incompetence.

I was such a failure, my brain screamed at me. I even fail at ending my life.