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Chapter One
Alex
I open my eyes, and it takes me a couple of seconds to realize where I am. After staring at the snow-white high ceiling for a few moments, I finally come to my senses. That's right, I'm in my new house in Malibu, California, two thousand miles away from my hometown. I've been living here for almost two weeks but still can't get used to it. I should call Los Angeles my new home now since I paid rent for the whole year.
Will I ever get used to living here? My shrink said I will, but I genuinely doubt it. He also noted that a change of scenery will definitely help me. But that's what he told me about those antidepressants, which I quit taking a couple of months ago since they did not work. Just like the pills he prescribed me before that, hoping it would get better soon. It didn't; they only helped me sleep a little better, and then everything came back to where it had been. So the only thing left for me to try is a change of scenery.
But a new house and a new job do not mean a new life. I wish it was that simple, but it isn't. Especially not for me, not after what I've done. I understand that the guilt I feel inside cannot be removed; I just have to somehow get used to living with it.
I brush my teeth on autopilot, take a massive cup of strong black coffee, and walk on the terrace overlooking the ocean, still wearing nothing but the black boxers I sleep in.
It's a cloudy day, and I see a vast gray spot in the distance as if it's going to rain, so rare for Los Angeles. I take a deep breath, inhaling the smell of saltwater into my lungs. The ocean...I've always dreamt about living next to it. When I was a kid, I couldn't even imagine that someday I'd be waking up to a view like this one... Too bad it doesn't give me as much joy as I thought it would because of the enormous hole in my chest, the one that'll never go away, because it's much darker than the cloud I see in front of me.
My house stands on the top of a giant rock at the end of the beach. That's why the rent was cheaper than others in this place: nobody wants to live in Malibu without direct access to the beach. Nobody but me, because privacy is my middle name. I can easily access the beach by simply walking half a mile, and the view from the top of the cliff is gorgeous, so much better than from the beach houses next to the water.
At six in the morning on Saturday, there aren’t many people walking on the beach. That's one of the reasons I like mornings so much. I can stand silently on my terrace for hours, and no one will disturb me. I simply stand there, thinking profoundly and drinking my coffee before doing anything else. That's my kind of meditation.
When I slowly refocus from the beach to the ocean and that gray spot in the distance, something moves in my peripheral vision, and I rapidly turn my head to the left, looking toward the edge of the cliff.
It takes me a couple of moments to realize what is going on.
My hands start shaking, and the mug slips out of them, hitting the stones of the terrace I stand on, spilling coffee all over the place, including my feet, but I don't feel the pain of the hot drink. I feel nothing but fear.
A young woman is about to jump off the cliff.
"Don't do that! You'll kill yourself!" I try to yell, but my throat has gone so dry that the words stick in my mouth, and I'm not sure whether I’ve said anything or not. I hear nothing but pounding in my ears. I wave to her, but she doesn't see me; she’s not paying attention to anything.
She’s at least twenty feet up from the water. She could easily hit a rock and break her neck. And even if she does a cannonball, which is the safest move for amateurs, there's still a considerable risk she'll break her leg.
She raises her hands into the air as if she is going to dive headfirst. It seems like my heart stops pounding as I watch.
She can't do this. She will hit her head and drown. It's suicide.
That can't happen to me. Not again.
She's standing about three hundred feet away from me. And she's already on the edge of the rock, so even if I run to her, I won't be able to catch her before she jumps.
I go to the edge of the cliff. It's around fifteen feet high from where I stand. There are tons of rocks under the water. It's almost impossible to jump safely. There's a big chance that if I jump, I'll hurt myself, too, even though I'm a professional swimmer.
But I don't think twice before I jump into the icy cold ocean.
I can't let her die like this. Not on my watch. Not again.
Chapter Two
Gabi
When my body plunges into the chilling water, it feels like thousands of little needles pierce right through my skin. At first, it hurts, but then it slowly starts to fade. I don't move, keeping my whole body under the water, including my head, because I don't want to get rid of those stings any faster. I enjoy each of them: they make me feel alive.
And then they're gone...
I slowly float to the surface, lying on my back and letting the water take control of my body, swaying it back and forth on the waves as if I'm weightless. I close my eyes to relax.
I know it's forbidden and even illegal to jump from that cliff. If my dad saw me jumping, he would be furious and have me suspended from school for days, maybe weeks. I know most people would be glad to stay home, but not me. Being away from school means being away from my swim team, and I can't let that happen. One day without swimming and my body is aching for it as if for a drug. A drug I will never be able to quit.
That's why I jump from the cliff every time I can. Luckily, the nearest house has been empty for more than a year now, so no one ever sees me. I always do it in the early morning, when there are no people on the beach. Yes, it's forbidden, but I can't help myself; it makes my heart beat faster, my knees tremble, and my palms sweaty. It makes me feel alive.
My parents say they worry about me when I come here, but that just makes it even more desirable. Actually, the danger is what motivates me the most.
