Chapter 5 The Manipulator T he breeze coerces my body forward, as if urging me to jump. To take the leap and plunge to my death. You won t regret it. That little intrusive thought lingers. Somehow, I feel like crashing into sharp rocks would be regrettable, to say the least. What if I don’t die right away? What if I miraculously survive the fall, and I’m forced to lie there, broken and bloody, until my body finally gives out? Or what if my body refuses to give out and I’m forced to live the rest of my life as a vegetable? All regrettable. I’m snapped out of my musings when IJ hear a throat clear. “Ma’am?” I turn my head to see a tall, older man with a softness about him that almost comforts me. His grey, thinning hair is matted to his forehead from sweat, and his clothes are stained with dirt and gunk. His eyes bounce between me and the edge of the cliff I’m standing on, emanating nervous energy. He thinks I’m going to jump. And as I continue to just stare at him, I realize I’m not giving him any reason to think otherwise. Still, I don’t move. “We’re heading out for the night,” the man informs me. He and his crew have been rebuilding my front porch all day, giving it the facelift it so desperately needed. While also ensuring that my foot isn’t going to go through the rotted wood and probably give me sepsis. He looks me up and down, his brow lowering as his concern seems to deepen. The breeze blows hard, swirling around us and stirring up my hair. I claw the strands away to see that he’s still eyeing me closely. When I was younger, Nana refused to let me near the cliff. It’s only a good fifty feet from the manor. The view is breathtaking, especially when the sun sets. But at night, it’s impossible to see where the cliff’s edge is without a flashlight. Currently, the sun is descending into the horizon, casting this lonely piece of land in dark shadows. I’m standing three feet away from danger, life and death separated by a rocky edge. Soon, it will disappear.