Page 30 of Luna

I am leaving this place.

Pulling my cardigan down over my hand, I brush the stubborn remaining shards from the window. Some fall in, some fall out.

I look down, trying to follow the path of the ones that have fallen to the ground. But I’m too high up; I cannot see or hear them land.

Gripping the top of the frame, I haul myself up so I’m standing on the sill. I hold on tightly, digging my fingernails into the flaky wood.

My legs feel weak and shaky. I know shouldn’t look down, but I do. And I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff. Below, the tall uncut grass sways in the breeze. An ocean of green waiting to swallow me up if I fall.

Except, it will not swallow me. I will meet it, and I will break.

I close my eyes. The rising sun is warm on my face. I can’t jump. I have to climb, but I have no idea how to do that.

Still holding onto the frame, I look left and right, examining the sides of the building. From the sill, there is a small rim of protruding brick that runs along the outside of the building. Maybe four feet from where I’m standing, there is a drainpipe.

I am not the sort of person who can climb down a building clinging onto a drainpipe. I’m too heavy, for starters.

I have visions of the drainpipe creaking and groaning and breaking away from the building, sending me falling into the large oak tree opposite.

The tree…

Its branches are large and thick and bare; it is too early in the year for it to have grown lush and green. But some of them protrude out toward the building. Are they close enough to grab hold of? If I jump?

I think back to the days when I used to take gymnastics lessons. Before the accident. Before I stopped wearing heels and being able to use my body the way I wanted to use it.

Back then, I could probably have made it. Just.

Now?

I am tapping my foot nervously on the sill, hanging on, looking from the drainpipe to the tree when I hear the one thing that could terrify me even more than the thought of falling to my death; the door.

The bedroom door.

Opening.

I spin around, wavering, grabbing the side of the frame instead of the top. My palm meets with a stray splinter of glass, piercing it, hard. I cry out, wobble again, and feel as if I’m teetering backward.

In the dark doorway, Lucien stares at me with inky black eyes. His sleeves are rolled up. He’s still wearing his shirt and braces. He fills the doorframe, but he doesn’t move.

Extending all the way up to the toes of his polished, black shoes is a beam of light. Wide, and bright. He rolls his tongue around his mouth, moistening his fangs behind his lips.

He tilts his head. “Where are you going, Luna?”

“Away from here.” I try to sound stronger than I feel.

A small smile snags at the corner of his mouth, and I find it instantly infuriating.

“You don’t think I mean it?” I turn back around, looking away from him toward the tree instead. Because somehow, looking at him is making it harder to want to go.

“Oh, I believe you mean it.” He moves. I can feel it. I glance back and watch him stepping around the large shaft of light. Will he turn to ash if it touches him? “I’m just not sure you’re capable of such a large jump.”

Again, indignation flares in my gut.

“Fuck you,” I mutter.

Then, without thinking, without even pausing for breath, I jump.

My arms flail in front of me, my fingers stretch, my legs peddle hilariously as if I’m trying to walk on thin air. My fingertips brush the nearest branch, but it’s small and weak, like me, and it won’t hold me. I know it won’t.