Gripping her hand I glanced at my best friend and then back down at the waters below us, the waves crashing onto the rocks below as we stood precariously on the edge of the hundred foot cliff. The wind whipping our knotted, dirty hair around as we stared at each other. Our clothes torn and bloodied and our shoes were long gone. “Do you trust me?” I ask her squeezing her hand tighter. “Always.” She shouts over the howling wind. We both turn our backs to the cliff. Looking around the forest we were standing in, we were surrounded by people. Some of them family and friends that were begging us to move away from the edge. Most of them were the people we had been running from waiting for us to make our decision. We were tired of running. We had made our decision. “Jump with me.” I say. And we jump.