The wind is pounding at her back. It tussles with her clothes and plays in her hair. She’s reminded of Peter Pan, a mischievous child that just wanted to play, every push pulling her closer to the edge. The rapid tides below taunt her, the willow trees tremble in delight as they laugh at her despair.  The leaves give a steady chant, 'do it' they whisper 'do it'.

She remembers when she was happy. She remembers when her life was together. She remembers when her parents still loved her and her friends still cared for her. Now her parents are always screaming and slamming doors in her face and to her friends she’s just the laughingstock. They tug at her hair and knock down her books, they trip her up and shove her around, they steal her clothes and parade her underwear around the school like war trophies. When she cries they cackle and call her a snowflake. 'You’re overreacting' they'd say 'stop being a cry baby'. It seemed like the entire world was against her, her only escape was ballet.

Dance had always been her getaway, ever since she was a child when her mother took her to her first ballet class she was hooked. She'd tried other dances; hip-hop, tap, jazz, ballroom, even Street dancing and while she was good at most of them, none of them had spoken to her like ballet had. She was in advanced 2, had done multiple recitals and had another huge role coming up that she had worked so hard for but the pressure was too much. The dieting, the sleepless nights, the endless tears, the bloody feet, the snide comments from the other dancers on how fat she was, how ugly she was, how incompetent she was, they'd giggle when she made a mistake, 'how could she have gotten the part' they'd whisper 'she can't even dance’ 

Ever since she found this cliff she'd stay up here for ages, sometimes she'd dance till her feet went numb, or scream at the top of her lungs until her voice was hoarse. No matter what she did it always ended the same; her blinded by tears, sobs wrecking her body as she fell to her knees questioning why. 'Why me' she'd think 'what did I do to deserve this' she'd wonder 'make it stop' she'd beg. But it never did. Eventually, after hours on that cliff she’d get up and walk home consoling herself ‘tomorrow will be a better day’ . But not today. Today she wasn't leaving. Today she was going to do it. "It's gonna be okay,'' she whispered. ``It's going to be okay".

With perfect form, foot en pointe, she leapt.