Prologue

She looked at the world around her. More amazing than anything else, she saw. Maybe coming here was a mistake, but the more likely answer that the way she had lived before now was a mistake. Where she was right now, she doubted many adults had ventured into. At the moment, she saw unicorns, knights slaying dragons, mermaids combing their hair, and dolphins jumping and playing behind two pirate ships. There was so much more, but she had so much time to discover it. It was all displayed underneath her, ready for her.

She looked down at her toenails. They were unpainted. Dull. Boring. Unimaginative. A tribute to her life. Taking a deep breath, she curled her toes around the edge of the cliff. Her straightened hair had fallen loose from its bun. It fell around a pale face, devoid of health, or life. Blood trickled down the length of her face, a startling contrast to the white. She clenched, then unclenched her hands. Holding them out in front of her, she saw they were trembling. Out of pale lips came a shaky laugh, more wisp and fear than amusement and sound.

She smoothed her hands down her skirt, rubbing away the clammy moisture from her hands. It was a familiar gesture, comforting her so many times in the past. Usually just a touch, a feel of the fabric of her skirts used to do that. A guarantee that she was now worth something. She wasn't a nobody, see here, that expensive silky feel could never be mistaken. She was somebody.

But now, the smart suit she wore seemed garish, meaningless. It stuck out here. Just the air here called for the comfortable, for the bright, the colorful. She shifted, wanting it off, gone. The movement made rocks crumble and she watched them tumble down the steep drop. Her eyes followed them down to the bottom, strangely entranced by the dance-like quality of them.

She glanced behind her, saw white. It was everywhere, and it hurt her eyes, yet she didn't move. Frantic nurses in scrubs wheeled a bed down a corridor. One doctor was running along side of the bed, calling out to the other in a calm voice. An IV hung from a rod, connected to the figure on the bed. She was so familiar. She had blood running down her face, a face to match the surrounding sterile white. She had on a dark suit that clashed with the otherwise colorless world. She almost preferred the white. She had dark hair laying limp on the pillow. Hands were reaching, pushing on a hole in the woman's chest. Blood was gushing despite their efforts.

A voice called out above the rest, "She still in a coma." Finally, they were in a room. The woman on the cliff watched this scene as avidly as she would her favorite TV show. She slowly turned around all the way and moved as if in a trance. The whiteness drew her, almost against her will. A different voice calling, "She's coming back, keep it up." In an instant, she felt a stab of pain. She looked down at her chest. Blood was blossoming, and pain was tearing her apart. It confirmed what she knew the whole time. That woman was her. Those people were pulling her back.

She paused,confused. She didn't want to go back. Back was where pain, heartbreak, and despite the white, darkness lay. No, she would stay here. She turned once more to the beauty offered and smiled. This was her future, her choice. She glanced one more time at what she was leaving behind and faced her future.

She started running. Right before she jumped, she felt a flash of fear, but there was no time to stop. It was gone the moment she flew off the cliff. She spread her arms and legs far apart, and then she flew.

The Eagle that had been watching her the whole time looked back at the rapidly fading scene. He saw a doctor rubbing two paddles together. A nurse called out clear and he put them on the woman's chest. She jerked up into the air, her body like a doll. The Eagle saw this at a glance, then swooped down to join the woman flying, and to give her a few pointers, that was no way to hold one's wings.

Sweat poured off the doctor's forehead. The man had something on his face that mirrored the woman's. Determination. Finally he stopped and looked at the monitor. She was alive, but barely. There was precious little holding her to the body on the bed.

She and the doctor who had worked on her knew the bittersweet struggle of having to fight.