Running Away

She took another drag of her cigarette and looked at the view. From her vantage point on the boulder, she saw the dismal valleys bellow and the stark plains beyond. The drought had played a game with the vineyards and won. Now, there was dry, barren land stretching for miles around. Wasteland.

This spot used to be her favourite refuge as a teenager. She had always had this bad habit of running away from her problems. Literally. Every time something went wrong that she could not handle, she'd take a long ride on her bike or catch the next train out of town and stay with some relatives until she could clear her head and pretend like nothing had happened. Not dealing with her problems was one way to deal with them, she thought sardonically. But this time, a long bike ride or a train journey wasn't going to fix things. This was something she could not run away from, even if she tried. She patted her swollen belly and took another drag. No, this was something she just could not run away from.

She flicked her cigarette over the precipice, watching it tumble down the hill. She used to come up here with her friends when she was younger. Those were the carefree days when they would all just pile into a car at a moments' notice, buy a couple of beers and head on out of the city up to the hills. It wasn't too far away. Just about 52 kilometers from her house. She had always associated these hills with laughter. That's why they were comforting when she was depressed.

She sighed and lit another Navy Cut. Smoking really soothed her.... calmed her. And in that hazy calmness, she could think rationally. Or at least, try.

It was weird how perceptions changed with moods. When you're happy, everything looks green and lush. When you're depressed, the same surroundings look barren and black. As black as your mood.

Another drag. Think rationally. Maybe things weren't as bad as they seemed. Maybe she wouldn't have to face her parents' wrath. Maybe they'd understand. She patted her swollen belly again. Yeah right. Maybe they'd understand....in a million years or so.

She crushed the cigarette on the rock and flicked it down the hill, watching its descent until it finally came to rest a few feet below. A heavier object would fall much faster and farther. She stood up and brushed off her jeans. She patted her tummy again. I'm sorry, she thought.

Then she jumped.