The Edge

I’m standing on the edge.

My toes sit across the overhang of the drop; below I can hear the wind and waves batter the cliff face. I look out across the darkness of the English Channel and watch the moonlight bounce on the heads of the fierce waves, which throw themselves at the coast. Taking a deep breath I shudder, the freezing salt air scratches and clings to my throat. A pain mirrored over the rest of my body, suffering the assault from the cold since I threw my clothes into the depths and leagues of darkness below. It seemed like a good definitive move at the time. But the empowered feeling has now turned to an awkward exposure, my hands holding onto the more intimate parts of myself to try and save some shred of dignity in the dark. 

I urge myself to push more of my foot over the edge. The adrenaline, which drove me to shed my clothes and stand on the edge, now seeping from me, leaving my head spinning. The wind picks up whole sections of my hair and they whip my face, my shoulders, my breasts and my back. It stings and makes my tired eyes water. The wind that beats my exposed figure is so strong that for a few seconds I entertain the thought that it might be possible for me to give myself up to it’s power. Let it pick me up and carry me above the water and these iconic white cliffs.

I’m standing on the very edge. Then I’m falling.

My ears fill with the sound of rushing air and I can’t breathe from the pressure of the fall. I gasp, panicked by the lack of air in my lungs.

When I hit the waves, they engulf me. My body is so fragile under the power of the Channel that I’m dragged down. Not that I can feel a thing. My body is numb from a combination of cold and the fall. I give myself willingly to the waves and let the peace of the water surround me.

I’m sure my eyes are open, but there’s just the calm darkness. No sign of the war that rages between chalk cliff face and rampant waves above me.

I feel tendrils of my copper hair drifting around my head. I feel my lungs pound in my chest, demanding air. I feel my lips part and the rush of water that feeds me my last sensory experience: the overwhelming taste of salt.

I was standing on the edge.