I stood at the edge of a cliff the hard, gray sides of the other mountains rising up on either side, uncaring, unfeeling, cold. What a perfect place to take a tumble.

I scanned the high cliffs for a sign of life, any hint of green amongst the gray, but none caught my eye. I sighed as I again turned my attention to the edge. Just a step, just a step and I would be gone, departed from this world forever.

Oh how badly I wanted to take that step. It pulled me forward, that urge to step, with promises of forgetfulness, of nothingness. I craved that step like addicts crave their substance. It burned within me, begging me pleading me, to give in. With it, I was nothing; without it I was nothing.

I closed my eyes and took a step.

I took a step, right onto solid ground. I hadn't stepped far enough.

No matter how much of me wanted to take that step, there was always that small little bit of me that screamed and fought for survival. It's what had kept me alive when I slit my wrists, had forced me to breath when I had tried to drown, had thrown up the pills, and the part of myself that I hated the most. The part that always refused to give up, the part that always resurfaced every time I had tried to take my life.

My family came into my mind, unbidden. I tried to quickly shut the door on those thoughts, but the flow of memories was too strong. Images flashed behind my closed eyelids. My mother's loving smile, my dad cheering me on at my middle school graduation, my little sister's dainty hands clutching mine as we crossed the street. I had almost convinced myself to walk away from the cliff.

Then the other memories started. My father's raised fist, a whip poised to strike, countless hours spent waiting out my parent's drunken rages with my sister.

My sister. What would happen to her when I disappeared? When they found my body?

She would adapt. That was the answer. My baby sister had always been better than me at standing up to our parent's wrath; at surviving.

Just lean now, just the slightest shift forward and I would have the ending that I so desperately wanted, but I couldn't do it. That part of me was still kicking and screaming, still craving survival.

I lifted up my arms, I would let the winds decide my fate for me. If I hadn't fallen by the time I finished counting down from ten, I would walk away and never try again.

10...

I lifted my body weight onto my toes.

9...

Was this how birds felt just before they took flight?

8...

Was this my last breath?

7...

My last heartbeat?

6...

Would it hurt?

5...

Is there a beyond?

4...

Did it even matter?

3...

Goodbye.

2...

A breeze floated down the mountain side, just the smallest, feathery breath of wind, but it was enough. Enough to tip me forward. Enough for me to lose my footing on the rocky edge.

Enough to send me toppling into nothingness.

1.