Rasp, rasp.
The breeze teases my hair. It's stronger up here, where there are few tall buildings. And by that, I mean few buildings taller than the one I'm currently perched on. I consider how I want to go.
Rasp, rasp.
The rhythmic motion of lightly scraping the razor up the length of my forearm comforts me. It seems to slow the chaos occuring below. A police officer is shouting through a megaphone, but he's too far away for me to hear. I can read his lips though, that's one thing I'm good at. Come down, he says, This doesn't have to happen. He continues in this fashion, but I look away to tune him out. I decide to use my razorblade instead of jumping. It'll traumatise less people.
Rasp, rasp.
I reflect upon how cruel life is. How, even though I am perfectly normal - except for one tiny defect - I am ridiculed and shunned by the people around me. If I'm facing you, you'd never even notice. My thoughts drift as I run through all the little digs over the years. All the petty insults, the teasing, even the pity. I think it's the pity that angers me most. I notice that my fists are clenched and release them, breathing deeply through my nose. The razorblade has cut into my index finger, but it's so sharp that I can barely feel it. That will come later, when it starts to heal. I chuckle. Later, what a good joke.
Rasp, rasp.
I resume the stroking motion to calm myself further. Idily staring down at the commotion again, I see one of the cops push a woman back into the crowd. I frown. She looks exactly like - no, it is my mother. I close my eyes and sigh. That's going to make this harder. Opening my eyes again I notice the policeman push her back again, so I flick the razorblade at him. It might even hit him.
Realising what I've just done, I resign myself to having only one path upon which to travel forward. Or rather, down. Shit, I say to myself, feeling the vibrations travel up my jawbones, Might as well get this over with. I stand up, and everyone below me stops. I make a sudden decision to go out with a flourish.
Double backflip, I shout down to the quietened crowds, with pike. After a quick theatrical stretch, I crouch down and launch myself into the abyss. I arch my back to force my body into a backflip, but as I come down I realise I've misjudged it. I know I've misjudged it because my head cracks off the side of the building. Even through the pain though, I attempt another wisecrack as the impact spins my body into a somersault.
"Change of plan!" I hear myself shout, "Double somersault with pike!"
As the ground approaches, I hear a telephone ring in a room that I fall past. This coupled with the fact that I actually heard myself speak, rapidly brings me to the conclusion that the knock on the head has cured my deafness. I bring myself into a pike despite the shock, lamenting the irony of the situation as screams erupt from beneath me. Guess I will be traumatising everyone after all.
If only I had kept my razorblade.
