Chaos and hate shadow me,

Pain, it fills me up.

Only one thing makes me feel...

Missing better half of me.

Black is all I feel, so this

Is how it feels to be free.

-- Alice in Chains, "I Am Inside"

She's sleeping, arms and legs wrapped impossibly tight around me. I'm surprised no one's come looking for her yet. She's usually up at five and off doing some charitable act or noble deed before most of us are even awake. It's going on ten and she's still sound asleep against me. I'd never realized until last night how very shy she is. Not coincidentally, I'd never known how beautiful, either.

So I lay here and draw invisible patterns on her back with my fingertips and wonder if she'll hate me later. I hope she understands that I couldn't die without knowing how she feels, just once, and without letting her know that she's all that's kept me hanging on so long. Paige knows I love her. I want nothing else now.

I stay this way for longer than I probably should, comforted a little by her warmth and innocence, then unwrap myself from her grip. I trail my fingers along her cheek and pray she won't wake up soon. I don't want her to find me.

I'm almost able to do this when I feel compelled to go back to my room. Everything's still a mess, but it doesn't bother me. Instead, I pick up my guitar, that taped together hunk of blue junk I've had since I was fourteen, and start playing that song. Without even bothering to look at the songbook, I play it with no breaks or pauses, but as it was meant to be from beginning to end with a certainty that'd make you think I've known it all my life. In a way, maybe I have.

The full ten minute opus ended with no frenzied solo or showy riff, just a sweet, slow tune that eventually dwindled to nothing. I almost chicken out, but I see a still burning stick of incense in the corner, then pat my guitar affectionately and place it against the amp that hasn't been used in months. I'm gonna miss that broken down piece of crap. I start up the stairs, making sure to lock the door on my way.

I don't look back this time.

In fact, I don't look back until I'm on the roof, wind whipping about and making me unsteady. I'm deathly afraid of heights, have been since I fell out of a tree when I was nine and broke my neck and got stuck in a brace for the next ten months. I cling to whatever's nearby and might give me something to hold onto until I'm ready to do this. How appropriate I've chosen to end it here. Ironic, even.

Mind oddly clear, much clearer than it's been in months, I'm free to reflect on everything. All loose ends are tied up, I've left no debts, and I left no note. If an explanation was needed, then they didn't deserve a note to begin with because they didn't know me. And besides - notes mean pain. I know. I found Mum's when I was eleven.

It's raining now. I want to cry, and all I bloody get is rain. It's fitting in a twisted sort of way. Maybe God's crying. That's what I thought when I found Mum and the empty Valium bottle in her hand on the kitchen floor.

I take a step to the edge. God, if you're real. . .I don't ask forgiveness, really. Just understanding. Watch over Paige for me, and everyone else.

Another step. It's raining harder, but I'm too far gone to catch the metaphoric beauty of it.

Movement catches my right eye, and then Angelo rounds the corner of the building. This wasn't supposed to happen. I'd planned it perfectly so no one saw me, no! Don't back out now. No turning back, no going back to that miserable, lonely thing that's supposed to be a life. Don't look back.

If I jump now, he'll never make it in time.

Please forgive me.

Angelo's cigarette hits the ground just as I take my last step, and he starts at a dead run, skin already stretching.

Falling.

Maybe he'll save me.