I stand on the edge of the bridge late at night. In my right hand, I hold a bottle of liquor as I stare down at the water below me. It's dark and compelling, trying to grasp hold of my attention. The sea has never looked so peaceful to me; the way it calls me, knows what I want. The waves move toward me in sync, the rush of liquid lulling me. The large amount of liquid seems to swallow me whole, the splashing of water whispering my name continuously. I can't believe I'm about to do this. It doesn't hurt me that I've got to this stage in my life. That I finally built up enough courage to sneak out of the house at two o'clock in the morning, drag myself to the drug store to buy a bottle of strong vodka and come here. Not at all. In fact, I'm relieved. I lick my lips, tasting a salty, bitter taste at the back of my throat. I can't put a finger on it, but it's something that snatches hold of me.

I sit myself on the edge, my legs dangling off the ground and exposed to the early morning air. When I close my eyes I see both of them together, moving in rhythm – it plays in my mind like a continuous recording. I open my eyes to feel a gentle touch on my shoulders, and when I turn around I see them. Ray. Andie. Expressionless. I want to jump up, slap her across the face, but I don't. I'm far too dazed for any more arguments. I've given up with them all. I'm ready to give up in everything all together. When I finally blink, they're gone. Vanished. I sigh, pondering whether, right now, they are together or sleeping in separate beds.

For these past two days, I haven't had any feelings, any thoughts until now. I haven't cried, not yet and I don't know whether that's a good thing or not. And, finally, the tears flood out. I can't stop them, no matter how hard I'm trying to be strong. Physically, against this – I can't. It's hard to let the thought sink in of my best friend cheating on me behind my back. Yet it's not that difficult to comprehend that my boyfriend did the same. Perhaps because Andie was always tormenting me, urging me to believe that one day he was going to leave me, break my heart. And he did. Oh, the irony. I laugh, because now, I finally understand why she was trying so hard to push me away from Ray. Because she wanted him.

I take a large glug of the drink, forcing it down my throat, the sharp burn awakening me to reality. My phone buzzes and when I look down at the screen, I see it's a text from Andie. So sorry about what you saw. We really need to talk. Together – the three of us...meet us tomorrow twelve o'clock at 'Minis'? X. That's all it said. With the kiss – she has no right to put that. Like I'd go see their faces again when I know what they've been doing behind my back. Funny thing is, both of them know about my history, they know what triggers me, and then they went and did this. Did they realise how much it would hurt me before they slept together?

In a way, I hope I have a funeral. A proper funeral ceremony where my classmates come to say their respect. I know that is highly unlikely that will happen. Half of my friends I used to be close with wouldn't be bothered to say their goodbyes to their dead friend. I know this sounds crazy, but I hope my family play my favourite song, so they feel like I'm really with them.

I feel like it's my birthday – I'm excited. The whole idea doesn't make me teary or end up crying; I feel the total opposite. I feel as if I am about to be set free from all the darkness and enter a curious fantasy. Will I go to heaven? Or become a ghost and totter around all day, watching people get on with their lives? Will I ever be able to communicate with my friends, let them know what happened to me? What pushed me over the edge? I wonder...I wonder...I wonder.

I remember when Andie and I were just ten years old – late at night, when everyone would be asleep, she'd flick her lights on and off and if I did the same, it let us know we were both awake. By the time we were fifteen-years-old, we would be sneaking out at midnight to go celebrate our friends' birthdays, and then by two o'clock, we would cautiously tip-toe upstairs and go to sleep as if nothing happened. Me and Andie – we were more than just close friends, we were sisters. She was the one who has supported me when my brother died in a car accident. The one accident that hauled three lives to a stop. After that, my father stopped talking to me, and my mother was left alone, drowning herself with work, all day every day. The only person I really had by my side was Andie.

The most distinct recollection is that night Ray first talked to me. He was the guy every girl dreamed of, the guy who swiftly moved girl-to-girl. No matter how much Andie told me he was bad news, I kept creeping my way towards him. Back then, I just assumed she was looking out for me, like every sister did. I didn't know she was doing it for a selfish motive. All those petty fights that separated us not even for half a day, all because of Ray. He was the guy I met when waiting at the bus stop, the shy one, the boy you would expect didn't have any courage to speak to a girl, but girls still loved him. I hadn't realised that I didn't bring any money with me, and the driver wouldn't let me on, not until Ray interrupted and said, "Don't worry, she's with me."

My phone buzzes again, snapping me instantly out of beautifully dark memories. This time it's Ray. He calls me, three times, and I ignore all of them, allowing them to go straight to voicemail. And then there's the text. The text that shatters me, the rest of me that's left. Please, Elise, pick up! I'm worried about you. We can all discuss this, I promise. Just – don't leave me like I think you're going to. Andie was just always there: she seduced me. I was upset one night and she was there. After that it just kept happening. It really meant nothing. Elise, I want you to understand. I don't want you to leave me. Call me. XX

It's really sad to say that I honestly believed Ray was the one for me; I loved him. And then as soon as I saw them framed through the open door of the bedroom, tangled in the sheets, in each other, all that love, the affection I had for him, faded in that second. The fact that I couldn't look away despite being disgusted. Her arms drifting above her head, dancing like she was lost in a moment of pure bliss. Overjoyed.

All of it – it controls me, too much that I know I'm nearly ready. I drink the vodka in big gulps.

I fish the small vial of pills out of my bag.

Stare at the dozens of coloured cases and remember.

Every detail that's splintered my heart: the night that it stopped.

And every reason not to live, twists the blade hard – twists it harder and harder.

I close my eyes, drink some more.

Take an engulfed, heaved breath.

I am ready.

I let myself go.

And then, when I finally open my eyes, I'm falling. I inhale one last breath, swallow. The air whips around my body, freezing me to the bone. I can feel the air howling through my ears. I surge toward the water, my heart pounding so fast and so hard that it aches, aches from pain and...some other thing which is full of darkness and traumatic delusions.

And suddenly my feet give way and come out of the instant numbness.

Pain shoots through me when my body comes into contact with the water, under all the intense pressure. I sink below, into the depth of the liquid, and hold my breath. Waiting for death to take me. Slowly but surely, I feel the sharp fuzz of pressure reach my nose, escalating into my brain. The water has already begun to swallow my lungs, and I am finding it difficult to breathe, to reach the surface. Need to get up, I keep chanting like a mantra. You can do this. You don't want to die anymore. Keep going. Almost there. You need to live for your mother. You can't let this petty betrayal ruin her life again. Come on! Just a little more...

I manage to reach the surface just in time, my heart pounding to survive, my lungs almost filled with water. I crawl to the edge of the water, where there is grass and clamber up. I realise I'm stronger than I thought. My gaze immediately goes to a boy, about my age, perched on the wooden bench opposite me. I don't know how it's possible, but I feel safe around his presence. He seems to recognise me when our eyes first meet. And the peculiar thing is, that I recognise him, too. It's him, Jadon. Our eyes lock, and he arches an eyebrow, taking his gaze off me and to the bridge, to the water and back to me. As if he saw the entire scene. I ignore it, seeing as he doesn't speak, and honestly, I believe I have a right not to respond to a mute query.

It takes me a couple of seconds to notice that he's wearing pure white, the colour irritating my eyes. He inspects me, up and down, and I feel a cold blush creeping up my cheeks. Two years – since I've seen my older brother. It's a dream, I reassure myself. Just your mind playing games with you. I look down at myself. I'm confused. I'm not wearing what I wore when I fell. And I'm not dripping with water.