Chapter 1: The Edge of Everything

The wind howled around Ely, cold and unforgiving as it cut through her clothes, biting her skin with icy claws. She stood at the edge of the cliff, her feet barely pressing against the crumbling stone, eyes fixed on the turbulent sea below. The waves crashed relentlessly against the jagged rocks, rising and falling in a vicious, endless cycle. There was a kind of twisted beauty in it—how the sea never tired, never stopped fighting. She thought, maybe, she could find peace in the depths, if only for a second.

For a long time, she just stood there, her heart pounding in her chest. It would be so easy. A single step, and everything would stop. No more pain, no more feeling like a ghost in her own life. No more pretending. She could vanish, like she always wanted. The world would forget her. She would be nothing.

Ely leaned forward, her toes gripping the edge. She closed her eyes for a moment, imagining the cold rush of air as she fell, imagining the blackness that would swallow her whole. It would be quick, at least.

But she couldn’t bring herself to move.

The past swirled around her, each memory a knife twisting deeper into her gut. Her father’s face, twisted in rage, his words like poison. Her mother’s silence. Darren’s mocking grin. They were always there, always watching, always waiting for her to fail.

She stepped back, the cold wind still biting her skin. There was nothing left for her here. No one cared. Not her family. Not her schoolmates. She was nothing. She always had been.

—

The day had begun like every other. The crack of glass, the slamming of cupboards. Ely woke to her father’s voice, sharp and full of venom, cutting through the thin walls of their small, decaying house. His breath reeked of whiskey, his words thick with hatred.

"Lazy piece of shit," he muttered as Ely dragged herself out of the living room couch. She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d slept in her own bed. It wasn’t safe there, not when Darren came home. Darren, who didn’t have to answer to anyone. Darren, who could do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Darren, who was never called out, never punished. Ely was invisible, the afterthought, the thing that didn’t matter.

“You’ve been sleeping all damn day, haven’t you?” her father snarled from the kitchen. “You disgust me.”

Ely didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Every word that came out of her mouth only made things worse. She focused on the chipped tiles, the faded color of the walls, the stains on the carpet. They were the only things that didn’t hurt. They were the only things that didn’t yell at her.

Her mother stood by the sink, scrubbing at a dish with mechanical movements, her back turned to them. Ely caught a glimpse of her face—a face that had long ago given up, a face that never showed up when Ely needed her most.

“Why don’t you just leave me alone?” Ely whispered, trying to make her voice heard.

Her father’s chair scraped back, his boots thumping on the floor as he approached. Ely didn’t move, didn’t speak. She knew what was coming. She could already feel the sting before it even happened.

“You want to speak back to me now?” His voice was low, dangerous. He grabbed her by the arm and yanked her forward, his grip like iron, bruising her skin.

Her mother said nothing.

“Do you think I want you here?” He shoved her toward the wall. “You’re nothing but a waste of space. A burden. A disgrace. You should’ve never been born.”

The words stung more than the slap across her face, more than the pain that radiated through her body. Ely’s vision blurred, but she didn’t cry. She didn’t scream. She couldn’t. Crying only made it worse. Screaming only made it last longer. She just stood there, silent, letting the shame settle deeper into her bones.

“Frank, stop it,” her mother muttered, but the words were weak. A pathetic attempt to stop him that had long since lost its meaning.

Darren stepped into the kitchen, leaning lazily against the doorframe. He looked Ely up and down, eyes cold, lips curling into a sneer.

“Wow,” he said, chuckling darkly. “What a fucking loser.”

Ely didn’t respond. Darren’s words weren’t new. They never were. He’d been calling her names since they were kids, making sure to remind her, every day, that she was worthless. Her mother would never step in, and her father didn’t care enough to stop. He never did.

She turned and left the room, her face burning, her heart breaking. She retreated to the bathroom, staring at her reflection in the cracked mirror. The bruise on her cheek would fade soon, but the emptiness in her chest never did.

School was no better.

She walked through the gates, hoping no one would notice her, but they always did. Always. The whispers started as soon as she stepped into the hallway.

“Did you see her this morning? Her dad probably hit her again.”

“Such a freak. Who even wants to be around her?”

“God, she’s pathetic.”

Ely didn’t look up. Didn’t speak. She just walked. She always did. Walking was easier than standing still and listening. It was easier than confronting the fact that they were right. She was pathetic. She was nothing.

The students parted like a wave when she walked by, all of them with their eyes on her, all of them talking behind her back. Trevor and his crew stood by their lockers, laughing, waiting for her to approach.

“Hey, Ely,” Trevor called, his voice dripping with malice. “You running late to your therapy session? I thought you’d be busy cutting yourself or some shit.”

Laughter followed him, harsh and cruel. Ely didn’t respond. She never did. She just kept walking, the pressure in her chest growing with every step, every whisper. She wasn’t even sure why she bothered to show up. Nothing ever changed. Not here. Not at home.

In the cafeteria, she sat alone. Her lunch was a bland, tasteless sandwich, but she didn’t eat. She didn’t feel hungry. It wasn’t the hunger in her stomach that was gnawing at her; it was the hunger in her soul. A hollow, aching void that couldn’t be filled with food or distraction.

She looked around the cafeteria, at the groups of students laughing, talking, living lives she could never be a part of. They were all so fucking happy, so full of themselves. And Ely… Ely was just there, stuck in the background, unseen, unheard.

The bell rang, pulling her from her thoughts. Another day, another endless cycle of existing without living. She left the cafeteria, pushing through the crowd. The hallway was emptying, and it would be like this again tomorrow. The whispers. The looks. The pain.

That evening, as Ely stood once more at the edge of the cliff, staring at the violent sea below, there was no thought of hope. There was no thought of what might come after. The only thing that mattered was the silence that would finally come when everything ended. No more whispers. No more laughter. No more pain.

She closed her eyes. She was already dead inside. She just needed to make it real.

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