"She's walking to the edge of the cliff again."
The elderly couple just sat by the window of their cottage, looking out into the grey morning and watching their granddaughter indeed walk out to the edge of the cliff they lived on. They all lived on top of a mountain, with a beautiful, splendid view that overlooked the ocean and the rest of the Nordic island. In her arms she carried many things: broken bottles and cutlery, car parts, and whatever she could find lying around. She just stood there, staring at the bottom.
One by one the objects were thrown off into the water. She watched as they fell those hundreds of feet down and hit the rocks, shattering into pieces or getting stuck in the crevices. The water splashed against them and washed away whatever made it intact. She sat down and just stared down, and imagined what her body would sound like, slamming against those rocks.
This was her way to start the day.
Isobel had been doing this for as long as she could remember, as long as it had been since she had become an orphan. She did this every single day, very early into the morning when no one else was awake, going back to her cliff to throw things off. Her grandparents had been watching this for a few months now without her knowledge. They had been worried at first, but as time went on they just learned to accept it, given her situation; a battered, abused orphan girl about to enter adulthood, and they were just too old to do anything about it. They would let the phases run their course, or become a part of her.
The one day they confronted her, she stayed so calm about it. Yet, there was no denying the wistful agony that trembled on the edges of her soft voice.
"I go through all this before you wake up. To be...."
They paused. They waited.
"All I want is to be safe again with you. Safe again."
One by one the objects were thrown off into the water. She watched as they fell those hundreds of feet down and hit the rocks, shattering into pieces or getting stuck in the crevices. The water splashed against them and washed away whatever made it intact. She sat down and just stared down, and imagined what her body would sound like, slamming against those rocks.
This was her way to start the day.
Isobel had been doing this for as long as she could remember, as long as it had been since she had become an orphan. She did this every single day, very early into the morning when no one else was awake, going back to her cliff to throw things off. Her grandparents had been watching this for a few months now without her knowledge. They had been worried at first, but as time went on they just learned to accept it, given her situation; a battered, abused orphan girl about to enter adulthood, and they were just too old to do anything about it. They would let the phases run their course, or become a part of her.
The one day they confronted her, she stayed so calm about it. Yet, there was no denying the wistful agony that trembled on the edges of her soft voice.
"I go through all this before you wake up. To be...."
They paused. They waited.
"All I want is to be safe again with you. Safe again."
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