Looking down, she could already imagine how much it was going to hurt. What soothed her fear was the fact that she'd only feel it for a very short moment, like a pinch, then it's gone. If her calculations were correct, her head would hit the concrete first, cracking the skull and shutting down her brain completely. Her pain receptors would bid farewell and everything that pushed her to that current position would be forgotten, dead with her.
Her hair blew in the direction of the insipid wind, tears drying faster, leaving lines of mascara painting her red but pale cheeks.
Only five days ago, her life was envious. She was happy. She was satisfied. At the age of thirty-eight, she had accomplished all her goals, made enough money, saw the world and explored all the pleasures this world had to offer. She knew men, and women. She knew fun, and self-control. But only one thing was still a foreign concept to her. Marriage; what an institution. She'd promised herself not to enter into one until she had paved her own path, the softest cushion, so that even if the marriage failed, she'd still land without a single scratch on her skin.
Her fiancé was godsent, a dream come true, a whole green forest. For the first time in her life, she knew the best thing she'd ever done was miss that flight three years ago and walk into an airport bar to wallow as she waited for another flight to come two hours later. That's where and when they met. Love at first sight? No, it was love at first flight. Everyone praised her for the choice she made. Her wedding was in two weeks so why was she standing on the edge of that tall building, counting down the seconds till she took a leap? Something did happen, something bitter, strange and awfully enraging.
"There's no way out of this one." She told herself, "I have to leave this place."
Breathe in. Breathe out. Eyes closed. One step forward. And alas! She spread her arms wide and threw herself off the rooftop. It wasn't long before a heavy thud was heard. The girl who once saw life in a more positive light was now lying lifeless in her own pool of blood.
…
Neighbours stood by their windows, watching as the movers carried stuff from the massive truck to the house. The collection included expensive furniture and several plants. Whoever the new tenant was, they surely were obsessed with flowers. Amongst the watchers was Mrs. Larchwood. She viewed the scene before her while sipping her well needed, completely necessary, lavender tea. They were all eagerly waiting to see who the new tenants would be.
The house that had been empty for half a year was now about to be occupied. Surely the price was lower than all the other houses in the Ridgecrest complex. You see, only the people above average pay grade could afford to reside there. In short, it was only those who were actually somebody in their careers. Doctors, celebrities, lawyers, architects, and so many more, it was filled with them. There was an imaginary push and pull, all wanting to seem better than the others. Of course, the outsiders envied them, unaware of how toxic it actually was.
The new tenants arrived later when the movers were done. The first to get out of the car was a man, late 50s, well-maintained and dressed like he belonged there. His smile was kind and radiant, it radiated more as he thanked the movers for a job well-done. The watchers were so focused on him that only a few noticed the lady coming out of the passenger's seat. She was younger than him, beautiful but a bit intimidating. Her hair was as black as ebony, layered bangs and lipstick as red as mercury. She didn't bother to speak to the movers. She just went directly inside.
…
House of the Raven
Mrs. Larchwood walked away from the window, her cup now empty and cold.
"Satisfied?" asked Jasmine, her eldest daughter. She'd been going through some files piled up on the table while her mother played watcher.
"It's a dad and daughter." Mrs. Larchwood explained as she sat, "I don't think she's the social type."
"Nobody in Ridgecrest is a social type. We're all just good at pretending like we enjoy each other's company."
"It's hard to be one of us. Once you get a chance you have to be humble."
Jasmine huffed, "You sound like we're gods. Truth is people outside are lucky to be there."
"Enough with your ungrateful speech. Are you done going through the files? If so, go get ready to welcome your husband. It's almost 5."
"What do you want me to get ready for? The maids have done everything already."
"Go wear one of the dresses we bought last week."
"Mom." She was annoyed. As a thirty something year old woman, married, she didn't want to be told what to do, especially by her mother.
"You know why we're doing this, Jasmine. Do not agitate your husband. We'd all be dragged down."
"Gee, I wonder why, mom." Of course that was a sarcastic comment. A few months ago, she married the man who investigated a case that transpired within the complex. Their marriage catapulted the husband from a mere police officer to a detective. Usually he'd be nicknamed Cinderella, rising up to a higher status over night, but the story was far more twisted.
"I'm going to send the new tenants an invitation for dinner." Mrs. Larchwood plotted.
And if Jasmine knew her mother well, she'd know that there was an ulterior motive. Mrs. Larchwood lived on her husband's money. She was unemployed, so she used most of her time vetting the lives of other residents. It was her hobby, but if somebody asked her, she'd say hosting.
***