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She was laughing, yet her euphoric state seemed off — like her laughter was only there to cover up a cry.
‘Come, I want to do it here,’ she called, running towards that ledge.
It might have beencrazy or extreme the last time we were out on the balcony. But now the freezing temperature made a white coat of frost cover the ground. This time around it wasdangerous.
‘Bea, get back inside. It’s freezing cold.’ I tried getting her to return to her senses.
I might have loved the adrenaline she could have given me, but I wasn’t going to risk her life over it.
But it wasn’t about that... it wasn’t about the adrenaline.
It was about my mistakes.
And I was to realize that as a line I heard her say in the past was repeated again. ‘Since when do you care?’
Didn’t I care?
Was I that selfish?
The answer to any of those questions terrified me. I had no idea who I was any longer.
Was I a protector or a user?
I didn’t have time to figure it out. With a desperation that hurt, I noticed her stepping up on the ledge, carrying with her that fucking champagne bottle.
Being on the rim in the safety of my arms was one thing, but now she was dangerously floating above the abyss, with each step she took, balancing on the line between life and death.
‘Bea, get down from there!’ I yelled as loud as I could, trying to get some sense back into her. It was my fear screaming, hoping that it will get her to listen.
‘No. Come up here and have me.’ I could hear the maddening pain in her voice as she was speaking words she didn’t believe herself.
I was responsible for what was happening, the same way I was responsible for her well-being.
And that was seriously under threat in those seconds!
A bad feeling was crawling up on me, like desolation in its purest form was taking hold of my senses seeing her so exposed to the danger that lurked from below.
I tried moving closer to her, but with every one of my steps that approached the ledge, she was taking a step further.
I froze, not knowing what to do so I wouldn’t jeopardize her. She was already doing an excellent job herself at risking her life.
I still had hope it was just a joke and that she would throw herself into my arms the very next second. But then I glimpsed the shirt that she was wearing slowly slipping down from her shoulders and tumbling into the blackness beneath her along with the bottle of champagne.
That made every-fucking-thing real. I was at risk of losing her, and it wasn’t because of the alcohol she had that night. It was because of my own ambitions. I had pushed her over so many possible boundaries for so long that she was ready to plunge into the abyss.
‘Bea!’ I was calling her back to me although I knew it wouldn’t work. She wouldn’t be mine again.
I was going to lose her.
The same feeling I’d had the night the gun which placed two bullets in my heart was pointing at me was repeating itself, only with a painful intensity this time around.
I wasn’t afraid I was going to lose her. I was fucking terrified.
All of a sudden I realized it wasn’tthe thrill of being inside her over the ledgethat I needed to find my way back. For a screwed psycho like me, that wasn’t enough. I was still in control back then and the adrenaline was just that —adrenalinewithout a single hint of fear.
Nowit was a whole different mixture, all emotions taken to their max, placing two invisible resuscitation pads on my chest. And then they discharged the electrical shock I need to finally be awake. In a blink of an eye, she lost balance, falling from the ledge to tumble into the dark void that stood beneath her feet.
She was about to plunge to her death. And I could have never let that happen.
