The Lost

I knew exactly where I was going. I had visited there many times,every day since the death of my son. It was the place I referred to as the high point; the cliff at the very outskirts of the town. It was raining out, the only way I really noticed that was because the rain was making my dress heavy against my skin. I liked the extra weight, the extra struggle. It would be how I knew that it was over, when I no longer felt the burden. I liked the feel of the cold bullets beating their way against my skin. I liked the way it made me shiver and the hair raise on my skin. It left me with an eerie feeling that I could only embrace with open arms and welcome. This was it. This was where I belonged. This was what I wanted. I ignored the sharp pains on my feet from the rocks. I could distinguish the warm blood from the cold puddles of stagnant water below my feet. I did not stop when my feet reached the last inches of cliff, and before I knew it I was flying.