• I gripped the sides of the metal door, wincing as the sharp, crisp wind pelted my face and hands. It tugged at my clothes, almost pushing me back into the safety of the cushioned plane seats, but I held my ground. This was what I wanted, I was sure of it.

    But I knew this was wrong. I knew this was a sin. I knew that this was something that couldn’t be taken back like that dress I’d regretted buying last week. But I also knew I couldn’t possibly bear it any longer.

    I jumped.

    I barely had time to prepare myself for the scene that lay below me. I hadn’t stopped to think about what I was doing - I had just done it. But it seems that that’s just the way it is. That’s the way it’s always been done. Suicide isn’t something that’s well thought out; it’s just done on a whim.

    My plan was simple: I would board my father’s private jet - I’d paid the pilot beforehand, making him swear to not ask questions - and make my escape when we were high above the clouds.

    As you can see, my plan wasn’t exactly fool-proof. It was stupid, really. I’d thought it would be a quick death, sudden. I didn’t plan on how much time I would have before I hit the cold, hard concrete. How much time I would have to regret ever boarding that damned plane.

    I looked down at the city below me. New York, New York; the place of my dreams. Or, in some cases, nightmares. I loved - yet, at the same time, hated - this big mess of a city. Towering businessmen might call this place a powerhouse of order; a well oiled machine, but I knew better.

    I’d seen the ugly side of NYC, and once those images are up there in your brain, they’re there to stay. Permanently engraved into your mind, they are your reminder that this world isn’t as perfect as we want it to be. People go on with their lives, not batting an eye at the scene of a thug beating an innocent young man to a pulp all for the reward of a few bucks and a parking ticket. It’s because they think that if they pretend it doesn’t exist, one day it will cease.

    But I knew, probably better than anyone, that this won’t happen; it’s impossible. Things don’t just stop on their own, and it only gets harder as time goes on. Gang activity starts out slow, but as the weeks, months, years crawl by, it gathers momentum and is eventually nearly unable to be tamed.

    How do I know this? Good question. I’ve had my fair share of violence. I’ve snorted my share of drugs. And I’ve seen enough people killed to know that my father isn’t your average businessman

    I tossed and turned, the wind growing yet more harsh, throwing me around like the old rag dolls that had been tossed, tattered and broken, in the far corner of my closet.. The wind grabbed at me, not like the caressing touch it had been when my feet had been planted on the ground. Up here in the open sky, with the earth rushing closer with every passing second, the drafts were more like an angry fist; a slap in the face; a belly-flop into water. It hit me repeatedly, slamming me from all directions. Just when I’d recovered from the last wave, another gust of the frantic wind would crush me, blinding me endlessly.

    This was nothing like the skydiving hobby I had clung to. Nothing like the sensation of falling freely through the open sky, untouched. Falling freely, but with a certain, unfailing sense of safety. The safety was gone. Gone with the dive instructor, gone with the parachute. Gone.

    The ground was getting closer now--I could make out the individual cars. My ears throbbed, ringing from the wind pelting me from all sides. My back and shoulders ached from falling from the airplane, sore from hitting the sides of the open door on the way out.

    The push of the air was flipping me over, forcing my back to my hometown.

    I’d grown up in New York. It was the only town I’d ever known. My father’s business didn’t require us to move around a lot, something I’d always been grateful for. I never really fit in easily, and I making friends wasn’t my specialty. According to my ever-shrinking list of people I was on good terms with, I had about as much charm as a dead slug. Hostile and unforgiving, I was the very definition of a turn-off.

    It’s not like I didn’t try. But when your dad’s the head of a well-known gang organization, people don’t get into the habit of making conversation with you. I never thought that was fair. I wasn’t given a chance by others, for fear that if they upset me I would call dear old daddy and have them whacked.

    Stupid.

    I finally managed to manipulate the air enough to turn myself back towards the people, the cars. I was getting closer. It couldn’t be long now.

    I saw a few people turn their heads upward, as if my presence had been announced by the gods. It was then that I realized, my face flushing in embarrassment, that I was screaming. But it was not a shriek of fear, not a cry for help, but a yell of expectation. A sound to illustrate the thrill that wiggled up my spine, making my toes tingle and my stomach flutter.

    The people were pointing, their faces mirroring one another. Expressions of confusion seemed to be plastered to each on of their faces, wondering why someone would be skydiving in such a central part of the city. Slowly, individually, each confused face transformed into one of fear and astonishment as they realized I wasn’t skydiving. As they realized there was no parachute. As they realized I was falling to death.

    They shouted at one another, clearing a space. Making room for me to fall to my end. A handful of the bystanders were digging through their Gucci bags to pull out cell phones to call the police or paramedics. Some just wanted to get pictures and videos they could upload to their Facebook and Myspace pages.

    I wondered what daddy would think when he saw the news reports. When he realized that the young girl that had fallen to her death - presumably a suicide- was me, his beloved little princess.

    I was only seconds from hitting the concrete, but I smiled, bracing myself for the impact. The last thought that crossed my mind was the realization that I had forgotten to make my bed that morning. Then I hit the ground and black enveloped the world around me.