My hot Italian principal

1. Queen of Hearts.

Beverly
"I am falling freely, in the name of love."

I HAVE ALWAYS been afraid of heights. Anytime my grandmother takes me to her office which was on the 24th floor, I cling to her, refusing to open my eyes until we had exited the elevator. For even in such an enclosed space, I had feared that the metal under my feet would give in to the pressure of the height and I would come tumbling down like Jack in my favorite nursery rhyme, "Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pale of water. Jack fell down and..." My granny would say, "Beverly you won't fall, grandma won't let it happen." I didn't believe her. Her hands were frail. How could she catch me?

Thus, I would imagine my body splattering on the ground; smashed skull, and broken bones. A gory sight for a young girl to conceive, but from a young age, I had always been the biblical Jeremiah -A messenger of doom! Hilarious that may seem, but true.

I had a playmate then, Madelyn, a little red-haired beauty whom I have no idea where she is now, but I remember how I loved her dearly like she was the sibling I never had.

She was everything I wasn't, and wanted to be; Free, playful, and courageous. It was on her insistence that I had gone on a Ferris wheel with her large family even though my grandmother had cautioned me not to. I willed to one day be as brave as Madelyn, so I had to take a leap of faith to begin. If only my inner Jeremiah had enough strength on the surface, suppressing the part of me that could do nothing but wish, I would not have been telling this story but he didn't, so here we are.

When the Ferris wheel began to spin, my heart lurched down my buttocks. I had cried more than half my life's force. That is if I was a character in my favorite Anime. I thought about it often and a smile never failed to spread across my face with the memory. Then it was anything but amusing. I never did that again. I hated the thought of plummeting so much until I met Emiliano.

Emiliano wanted me to always fall just so he could catch me. Whether it be from slipping down the stairs, or the stage, or for him. He was always there to hold me down. Soon I stopped being afraid of plunging I started to love the idea of letting go as long as he was in the abyss. As I stared down at the garden from the porch, two stories above, I had no more apprehension of falling.

The wind jigged around me, a foolhardy cortege, undecided whether to settle on my skin or surround me in a chill. I loved the taste of the night, the parabolic thirst of the moon Illuminating the earth, and explaining why God let it survive despite all atrocities. I exhaled, feeling the intensity of the wind in my bones, freezing my blood. If Emiliano was awake, he would have wrapped me in his brawny arms, and his breath on my cheek would be my fireplace where I could get all the warmth the world had to offer.

Freckles of dust decorated the dark sky, refracting from the glass below me where I rested my body. It shone into my room, Illuminating the floor. It was a beautiful night, yet nothing about it was alluring. Nothing about me was appeasing. My grandma would call the voice in my head the devil. I knew that it was anything but him. It was my voice, reminding me where I should have been. Dead.

A hand clutched at my chest as faint sobs escaped my lips at the distinct flashes of memories that beclouded my mind. I turned back and was met with double-glass doors, from ceiling to floor where my room shone in all its beauty. Perhaps it was the figure in it that made it seem irresistible. I wiped my face with the back of my palm, deciding that I was no longer going to let my past hold me back from being the wife my husband deserved. The veracity of my decision tallied with my hardened resolve.