I walked through the woods. I gave up the dirt bike and bought booze. A lot of booze. And I went through it night after night, committing myself to becoming a grieving alcoholic. Before going to bed, I’d fill a cup with some ice and pour vodka over it. By morning, the ice would melt, the vodka would stay, and that would be my version of a cup of coffee.

I’d brush my teeth so hard you’d never know I was already half in the bag. I’d eat breakfast, go to work at the local junkyard, fuck around, drink, then come back home.

There was no making sense of what happened.

There was no making peace with it, either.

She was gone.

She didn’t even scream, either.

I made it to the edge just in time to see her…

And the kicker?

He was gone, too.

That fucker.

I’d never get my hands on him.

He just disappeared into the night, his bike wailing in the wind, and he was gone.

I thought about what I’d give up to get a chance to face him. Better yet, what would I want more? A chance to face him or a chance to bring her back to life? Now that was the million-dollar question. Beat the shit out of the guy who was supposed to be my best friend or hug the woman I had fallen for. Yet she had been sleeping with my best friend. And he had been the one giving me the advice to just bail on her. To just let shit go.

The anger and grief was a motherfucker to handle sometimes.

That’s why I always ended up back at the bottom of the ridge.

Figures, it took her jumping for the town to do something about it. The outrage finally kicked in. Teenagers drinking up there! Teenagers partying! Teenagers smoking the drugs! Teenagers falling!

Trust me, she didn’t fucking fall. She fucking jumped. She wanted to go over the edge. It was there in the note she left for me to read. A note that I kept to myself. A note that nobody else knew about, not even the police. Not even her parents.

I looked up at the ridge and decided to take the hike.

Mind you, the outrage turned into a plan to fix things, and that plan fizzled along with her memory. What happened from there was that the town put together some cash to plant bushes to deter people from climbing up on the ridge.

Bushes.

Bushes that I stepped over in a matter of seconds. Not even picker bushes, either.

I climbed to the top of the ridge and spotted two people. A guy and a girl sharing a bottle of booze. He was holding her in his arms, swaying back and forth. They were laughing. She was holding his arms. He was laughing, then started making scary noises.

“I’m going to let you go,” he teased. “Then you can fly.”

“No, don’t. Don’t mess around, Rob.”

“What? Come on. We’re not that drunk. And we’re not that stupid, to fall over that edge?”

I gritted my teeth.

“Hey, don’t joke,” the girl said. “I heard that girl didn’t just fall. I heard she jumped.”

“Well, either way, she’s an idiot. If you could fall off that edge, you don’t deserve to live anyway. And if you were going to do yourself in, why jump like that? You know how long it would take the reach the bottom?”

“About twenty seconds,” I said.

That got their attention.

The guy spun to look at me, leaving his girl behind. She stepped back, her left foot sliding on the edge of the ridge. She let out a scream and grabbed for her guy.

That’s how fucking easy it is to fall.

“Jesus, man,” he said. “Hey…Maddox, right?”

I walked right to him and grabbed him by his shirt. I pulled him nose to nose.

“She didn’t deserve to live? She was an idiot? Huh?”

“Fuck,” he said. “I wasn’t just talking shit.”

“Stop,” the girl said. “Please. Maddox. Please. He’s an asshole.”

I shoved the guy back. His shirt was stretched out. He showed me his hands.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

I looked at the girl. “Get out of here. This is my spot.”

She ran to her guy and he grabbed her hand and hurried to pull her to the side of the ridge where they could climb down.

I noticed the bottle of booze left on the ground.

There was still a few sips left in it.

I blinked and was right back at that night. The bottle of cheap ass whiskey on the ground. The thing that finally gave it all away. Looking up at her. Seeing the cut at her eye. The fear in her eyes. The pain…guilt…regret…sorrow…

She never gave me a chance to show her who I could have been. That I could have helped her. That I could love her, even though she fucking cheated on me.

I held the bottle of booze in my hand.

I growled and threw it as hard as I could.

I watched it sail through the air, and then drop. I listened intently but never heard it hit the water. The distance was too far, and the bottle was too small. It probably smacked the water with a weak plunk and that was that.

I plopped down on my ass and sat there.

With my right hand, I reached for the dirt. Using just my pointer finger, I started to draw something. A portrait of her. The face I’d never forget. The girl I couldn’t save.

I told myself right then…I would never fall in love again.