You can’t make homes out of human beings (Rachel)

[runrachelrun.insanejournal.com]

The final two floors of the block of flats were closed off – there’d been a fire there long before Rachel and Harley moved in and the doors to the stairs had been bolted shut. The door on the east staircase had a busted padlock, and though the staircase was chained off it wasn’t difficult to step over chains. Rachel had heard people fighting up here, and there was broken glass bottles, trash and condoms littered everywhere.

Most of the time it was even kind of peaceful. Only one corner of the building had been damaged by the fire and it can’t have been more than cosmetic otherwise the rest of the building wouldn’t have been open, right? To be fair, Rachel didn’t care right now if the whole building did come down. She didn’t care if anyone stabbed her in the closed off staircases. Didn’t care if the crazy guys who squatted up here heard her creeping through the abandoned hallway.

I'm sorry. Danny had said.

It's no ones fault, I just can't and I'm sorry.

She knew what that meant. No one needed to tell Rachel was a suicide note sounded like.

The roof was open to the elements, and the wind picked up her hair and threw it across her face. If she stood on the edge of the north east corner she could see round and over the other blocks of flats to the Thames. The glint of the river was hidden from view from all other points but this one, standing on the very edge. The city glowed under the low clouds, heavy with rain.

Somewhere out there in the city Danny was dying.

Somewhere out there in the city Zoe was getting ready to leave.

Rachel had her iPod tucked into her bra, earphones in, creating her own soundtrack as she looked over the city. London’s own noises couldn’t reach her; it was as if they didn’t exist, as if she only existed inside a movie. Everything felt dramatic; the height, the wind, her dress flapping around her bare legs, her pain.

She had not come up here because she planned to die, but she needed to let go of something.

And once she was here, and the ground was visibly lit by the security lights so many floors below, stepping out into the air seemed so easy it felt inevitable.

Rachel peeled off her jacket and let it dangle at the end of her arm to see if the wind would take it. The sleeves flapped and tugged to be free, and she tugged up the corner of her mouth and opened her hand and let it fall. It spun toward the bright puddle of light but missed, and she lost it it in the shadows and she didn’t see it land.

Balancing on the edge on one foot, Rachel pulled off her shoe. The golden sandal dangled at her fingertips for a moment till she changed her mind, closed her fingers tight around it, wound her arm back tighter and threw it as hard as she could into the night. It disappeared faster than her jacket had.

Her bare toes curled over the edge, gripping the side of the concrete.

She felt a little out of breath, like maybe she'd been screaming. Maybe alcohol had just burned her throat into a constant state of heat, though. Her throat and her stomach. She closed her eyes and swayed forward, backward. her balance as a dancer was good, but her balance as a drunk was nothing to be relied upon.

A hand grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her backwards, cutting her away from the music as her headphones fell from her ears. The ledge was three or four feet higher than the rest of the roof and wasn’t far to fall, comparatively, but she was falling in surprise and by force and had enough time only to twist her body partially and land completely with her entire weight on her elbow. Her elbow hit the concrete first, and her head and her hip hit with equal force but her hip was much much hardier.

She screamed hard as pain shot through her body and the world came back into focus; the background roar of the city, the whip of the wind, the cool of the ground under her arm and against her cheek; and her dad.

Harley stood over her a look of panic on his face and strands of blonde hair tangled in his big hands. He yelled at her – and her mind did not remember what he said even as he finished screaming it but it was along the lines of no- no you’re not allowed to jump. You dumb – and then abuse abuse abuse.

“Daddy?” she heard her own voice clear in her head, clear though the roar of blood in her ears threatened to swamp everything else.

He knelt down next to her and gathered her into his arms, calling her princess. Freaking out.

She heard herself scream; even the blood wasn’t loud enough to deafen her to that. He moved her arm and there weren't words to describe how much it hurt.

“It hurts,” she managed to gasp. “It hurts, Daddy, it hurts.”

He grabbed her face: “You’re not allowed to fucking fall you’re not allowed to leave me.” He smelled of beer and she squeezed her eyes shut. His grip was so strong on her face and her head and her arm hurt so bad she didn’t have the strength to move.

She remembered he started to cry just before it started to rain but she didn't remember how they got down to the ground floor.

She remembered him buckling her into his car, and tucking a blanket over her legs as she gritted her teeth so hard because of the pain in her arm that it made the pain in her head even worse.

She remembered listening to Justin Timberlake in the car as the rain started to get harder and harder, and she remembered arriving at the hospital. She remembered throwing up more than once in the waiting room. By the third time she threw up they’ve moved her into first position and she got to see a doctor about her arm and her head and she checked her in for the night.

They wouldn’t let her go to sleep because of her concussion.

Yet the night passed anyway, and every bit of it bounced right off her memory and dissolved before she could catch it.

Every bit but one.

She knew she was at the wrong hospital, on the wrong side of the river.

Danny, dying or not, was unreachable.

She remembered that.

And didn't sleep.

But wasn't exactly awake, either.