Uneven Ground

I took a deep, dragging breath of the frigid air. It filled my lungs and stung my lips, but I loved it. I glanced down at my toes, clutching at the shingles, the rooftop was the perfect place. Somehow it still held the depressed aura that I was going for, even with the twinkling lights and the carols playing somewhere below. Because pre-Christmas joy or not this night was not meant to be a happy one. I knew this in all of my bones, each pore of my skin, knew it better and closer than I had ever known anything, better than I knew my name. Why? Because tonight would be the night that I died.

I am not sure when exactly I decided this, that my life could not go on any longer, that I would have to take matters into my own hands. The night sky seemed so beautiful tonight, taunting me with each sparkling diamond punched in the film of black. Even the day as well was perfect, water colored ink clouds spilling across the dawn's horizon. I relished every moment living my last day. It was interesting, knowing that I would never see anything my eyes were taking in again. Not the apartment, not my office, my co-workers, the sunshine. I did not allow negative thoughts, not this day, not even now. I waited for the peaceful death that I imagined. The dirt nap, pushing up daises, and so on. Sleeping in a box underground seemed comfortable. I would finally have a place that I belonged, something that couldn't be taken away from me, or if it was, I wouldn't care. I couldn't wait, not a moment longer.

I let a smile cross my lips, inching forward. I could see all the matchbox cars below me, there would be no way for me to survive this fall. Come to think of it, there may not even be a body to bury. This only gave me slight pause, I no longer cared. I would no longer have to carry this endless pain, the sea of shame would not threaten to drown me each morning. I would finally, blissfully be free. All as simple as taking two more steps, then allowing gravity to kill me. I took one more deep breath, luxuriating in the visible cloud of its release. One step. Two steps.

Calm. Peace. Pain. More pain, all I could think of was the pain. Ripping, shredding pain. Exploding beneath the skin, this wasn't supposed to happen. I waited for my eyes to open, to have anything, see anything. There was nothing, nothing but this pain and its endless hum. There was no peace, there was not death.

Then-there was something. Small beeps, shuffling steps, pens clicking, papers shuffling, a scent that burned my nose. Pain, the pain was still there, I opened my eyes. White, white and yellow. Clear tubes, white sheets, patterned paper gown, red and blue wires. This made no sense. How? How had this all happened? I should not have survived that fall-could not have survived that fall. What was this? Hell? What had I done?

Green eyes, brown mustache, modern, sliver glasses. I did not like this doctor, I had never liked docters, even as a child. They never seemed to be speaking to me, always the window, the wall, one of their many charts. It was a miracle, an absolute miracle. No one could explain it, not one single person. No one could explain how all of my bones had not shattered on impact, how all of my organs had not turned into a frothy milkshake, how my skin had not ripped right off my body. There was nothing to say, nothing to think. Time passed.

Things slowly smoothed out, became less fractured and disjointed. I spent three months in the hospital. On my last day I recieved my first visitor. The nurse seemed blank to me, already thinking of something else, another day, tomorrow perhaps. I nearly groaned. Tomorrow. I still had a tomorrow to look forward to. I couldn't remember all the bones I had broken, refused to focus on it. Instead I planned. With the plans came worry, stress. I had already failed, should I try again? Perhaps a higher altitude. Footsteps interrupted me.

"Hello." The man had longish sandy blonde hair, a composed face. Nicely dressed, yet someone you could forget. I did not know him.
"Hi," I murmured.
"Kate, is it?"
"Yes, and you?"
"Allan, pleasure to meet you."
"The same. May I ask, without being rude, what you are doing here?"
"Of course. I am here to make you an offer." The words took me by surprise. They seemed simple, yet I knew that they were not.
"Do you know why I'm here?" I blurted out. Who would want me for anything? Was he some sort of charity official?
"I know everything about you, Katelyn Marie Mathis."
"I'm sorry?" I frowned, wondering if they were still pumping drugs into my system.
"I've known you from your first breaths, I knew you as you took your first steps, I knew you as you took your last."
"I will walk again," I muttered unable to comprehend what he could possbily mean.
"It will not be the same. Life as you knew it is over, I think we both know that." I could not argue, not on that point.
"I don't understand."
"They said it was a miracle that you survived, and it was. How do you think you survived?"
"I can't remember. I cannot be sure."
"Could it perhaps be that someone was holding onto your wrists as you fell?"
"That's not possible," I muttered, looking at my wrists all the while.
"Yes it is."
"You're not making any sense, please leave me alone." I clutched my hands at the sheets.

"Don't you want to make up for your parents shame?" I became so still that the act of not moving breathed inside me.
"And how would I be able to do that?" He smiled a small smile.
"Let me show you."