The rain was colder than it had been in her dreams.

It melded into her skin, making her feel as if her whole body had been fully enclosed in ice.

For the small girl who wore only a shirt and a jumper, the falling water did not bestow any mercy upon her.

The black figure behind her seemed to be unfazed by the adverse conditions and, as usual, its beady black pupils were steadfast on following the small girl wherever she went.

Looking towards the location she’d chosen to use as her free-falling destination, Chloe made her way to the back of the building where a metal ladder awaited her arrival.

The school she’d been going to for a year or two was a good place to jump. Not only did she know the way to reach the roof, but the building also had three stories and so would surely give her some airtime to enjoy.

Anything higher than that would surely be hard to reach the roof of as a ten-year-old.

Stepping onto the slippery metal, her foot slid right off it, causing her to tumble to the floor with a groan, a simultaneous loud metallic groan sounding out from the ladder as if it were admonishing Chloe for her careless behaviour.

The ladder was harder to climb than in had been in her dreams, the rusted material wailing out in pain as she slowly made her way up towards the roof.

By the time she’d made it up there, she was out of breath and her forearms burned from overuse.

Rolling over onto the damp, hard concrete, Chloe stared into the dark blue sky.

The sky looked better than in her dreams.

No ominous pair of obsidian orbs peering down upon her, only a myriad of clouds and dark blue painted the canvas that was the sky.

But then they appeared, two orbs blooming from the sky and staring down upon the tiny little girl with fervour.

The navy-blue sky turned pitch black, rain becoming neon green.

Although the rain still felt quite cold and damp, it lighted up in contrast to the black background, tumbling down to the ground before exploding into little green splotches.

A black figure stood behind the little girl, it’s eyes creasing upwards, seemingly in a jovial mood.

And then the building turned crimson red. Starting from the place she was laid, the building became infected with the bright colour, spreading to all the surrounding towers.

Struggling to push herself up, she moved over to the edge of the crimson tower, as she’d done so many times before, a wonderous sight placed before her.

A long drop, just like in her dreams.

An endless pitch-black sky, just like in her dreams.

Neon green rain, just like in her dreams.

“Do it. IT~~IT~!” the figure beckoned, staying dead-still as if not wanting to affect the potential outcome of the scenario unfolding before it.

‘Perhaps, just like in my dreams, I’ll wake up from this horrible dream. I’ll wake up. My dad will be alive! My mother will be happy again!’ hoped Chloe, her surging emotions calling out to her, pleading for her to wake up from the abhorred nightmare that had been the past two weeks.

And then she did.

Placing one foot over the edge of the tower, she shifted her weight onto that foot and fell of the edge.

And there it was!

That rush! The feeling of the rain on her back! It felt even better than in her dreams!

Chloe shouted out in joy, “How… How wonde…..”

Crack!

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“Aghhhh… Aghhhh” screamed out the little girl, blood seeping out from her left leg onto the concrete below.

As if magma had consumed her body, the little girl’s shouts of pleasure soon turned into uncontrollable screams of pain, her body writhing upon the cold ground as crimson leaked from her leg.

‘Why does it hurt so much? Why did I meet the ground so fast?’ she furiously questioned as her eyes looked towards the source of the pain.

She had made contact with the ground with her left leg first, leaving it in a bloody bent mess.

No longer was the rain green, nor the buildings red, nor the sky black.

No.

This was not a dream.

It was reality.

And a cruel reality at that.

One where everyone had abandoned her, even herself.

Looking upwards to where she jumped off from, a black figure stood atop the roof it’s eyes drooping down as if it were displeased with the outcome.

And then the figure changed once again. Mikhael’s face appeared where the figure’s face had once been.

“Why? Why are yo…u still aliv..e? Alive, but I a..m not?” Mikhael screeched, his orbs staring at the small broken child in front of him.

Chloe, delirious from the pain, thought that Mikhael had really appeared once again before her.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! It wasn’t my fault, right dad?” she shouted out with all her might, afraid that the rain may interfere with her message.

“Fault? Of course it’s yo..ur fault! If not for you… I’d still be alive~!” he screamed in anger, seeming annoyed that she’d even bring up the preposterous idea that she were not a fault.

His facial expressions seemed to conflict themselves, half of his face scrunched up in what seemed to be excruciating pain, whilst the other half furiously contouring into a hateful glare.

Chloe looked up towards the dark blue sky, the unrelenting rain pelting down upon her frail body as she remembered the comments of her mother, the screams and kicks she received reinforcing the looming statement which had weighed heavy upon her fragile mind for the past two weeks.

“Ah… Why am I still alive? A murderer like me?” she chocked out, scrunching her fists tightly, biting her lips in a futile attempt to stop herself from crying out due to the pain.

And she even thought that this, the world she lived in, the world she killed in, was a cruel dream!

The warm blood pooled around the girl, spreading warmth throughout her left fingertips as the crimson liquid dyed her little pail hand a deep shade of red.

‘Ah, I shouldn’t be alive.’ She sombrely thought as she stared into the sky above.

“At least it won’t be for long.” the dark voice concluded, before seemingly becoming severely agitated for some reason.

A series of worried shouts sounded out, inaudible to the girl who solitarily shrieked in the rain.

The little girl’s eyelids fought against the sleepy feeling that washed over her as they shut tight, for what she thought was going to be the last time.

----------------------------------------

Three years had passed since the attempt.

Chloe never quite recovered from the injury she had caused herself, a large scar spanning half of her leg readily evident to whoever may wish to gaze upon it.

At that time, the little girl was surprised to have opened her eyes again, doubly so considering where she found herself when she woke up.

In a room which she had been visited at so many times when her father was still alive.

Forced to stay in the room for over two weeks to ensure she wouldn’t die due to the common cold she’d caught due to being out in the rain, the little girl stared at the quiet figure for what seemed to be a century.

The black figure seemed to be exhausted, choosing to stay quietly in the corner of the room throughout her stay.

Although, that was not to say that her dreams were not unpeaceful.

No, on the contrary, they only got worse.

Instead of living the accident repeatedly in her own body, this time she was stuck in her father’s body.

Unable to move.

Unable to think.

Only able to experience the pain he felt.

The sacrifice he made.

For her.

Perhaps that’s what led to her not saying a word during her stay at the hospital. Nor for the last three years she’d lived in this hell.

Only pain and suffering existed for the little girl.

Books were her only respite, but even then, it was only for a short moment.

You see, not speaking at all in her school painted quite the bad reputation for Chloe.

At first it was being called names, and then it became more physical.

Hair pulling, pushing her to the floor, perhaps a slap or two depending on how they were feeling.

However, Chloe never reacted to them. Rather, she chose to not fight back, stay still and not speak a word.

She was never “present”.

The pain that she would feel during the night was nothing compared to what they put her through.

Although Chloe’s mental state was already in shambles and therefore unable to be damaged any further, that was not the case for her feeble body.

Each slap that she took, every tumble to the floor she embraced, her body was slowly deteriorating in response to them.

In the first place, she was a very frail girl. Coupled together with physical bullying, at home and at school, and the frequent self-harm that she engaged in, she wouldn’t have much longer left to live.

The older woman would never take her for the check-ups she was supposed to have, perhaps due to a lack of funds, or maybe due to the resentment she felt for the child.

Speaking of her mother, she was rather tepid in attitude towards the little girl after her attempt.

Thoughts such as, ‘Was I the cause of this? Does such a small child deserve this sort of treatment?’ floated around in her consciousness, persuading her to be nicer to the child for a short while.

However, life is tough.

That mindset soon broke down as she continued to work overtime, turning to alcohol as a coping mechanism which led to even worse beatings and verbal abuse.

It seemed that the only “friend” that she had was the black figure who always with her, just a few steps behind.

Although it’s words were harsh and full of venomous spikes, Chloe couldn’t find fault in them.