It is a cliché dark and stormy type of evening; a girl is running down a path that stems from a dirt road.
Girl: She is fairly tall, 5’7’’-5’8’’; thin, perhaps slightly emaciated but not shapeless; long and unkempt golden blonde hair, damp and matted from the rain, stringy and in her face; large, sunken hazel eyes which are red-rimmed and bloodshot (possibly from crying, possibly from fatigue), pre-orbital dark circles add to her haunted, wild-eyed look. She is adorned in older, faded jeans which are a size or two too big and a heavy, hooded sweater (possibly sporting the logo of a rock band) and worn sneakers.
The girl, who is visibly distraught, disoriented and drunk, is being pursued by a boy her own age. The boy parks his compact sports car and leaves the door open with the engine running. He chases the girl down the path, calling her name:
Boy: he is tall, about 5’11’’-6’’ with an athletic and muscular build; handsome; dark brown hair which is damp and flattened, light blue eyes, wide with panic and concern for his female friend. He is wearing jeans and a college football style leather jacket over a nice sweater, and running shoes.
The girl, Emily, runs faster and harder now, knowing that she is being followed. She wonders:
How the hell did Cameron know I came down here? Did my parents tell him? How did they know?
Emily knows that if she keeps running, she can stay ahead of Cameron. She is almost there.
The path becomes more narrow and overgrown as the boy and girl run on. Emily stumbles and trips over the overgrown grass and rocks. They go for almost a quarter of a km until Emily reaches the train bridge.
The bridge looms monstrously above the little valley like area with the trail and the dirt road that ends at the bottom of a large hill. The train bridge spans several hundred, perhaps even a couple thousand metres above Emily’s head.
Emily feels brave; drunkenly and on an adrenaline high she begins to climb the trusses. She hears Cameron continuously shouting her name and she feels annoyed. And also panicked. This is it.
In thought: I am sorry, Cam. But you won’t bring me back and I am NOT coming down. Not until I get to the top; then I will REALLY come down.
She has to get up there and do it. Emily is determined. Not even the person she loves can stop her.
By the time Cameron gets to the bridge Emily, surefooted even in her drunken state, is halfway to the tracks at the very top. Cameron—your typical “tough and manly” kind of guy—is not without emotion or a heart; he is almost in tears, frightened out of his wits.
“Emily, for God’s sake! Climb down! Come to me! Let me hold you! Talk to me, baby! Don’t do this!! Your mom called the pol-”
Emily has heard enough; she has climbed high enough. At this point she leans back. Cameron screams from below.
“Emily! CHRIST, NO!”
Emily lets her left foot swing back. Cameron’s cries are just unintelligible noise to her now. Her left hand let’s go. Emily smiles now. And everything finally feels alright to her. She feels like she has a repair ticket in her hand and as soon as that remaining hand lets go of the rusting metal truss, she will be fixed.
Emily’s right hand let’s go. She plummets.
Emily shoots upright in bed. She looks around.
The white sheets, the white walls. Her white t-shirt and grey sweat pants. The barred hospital window, showing the outside world of “sane” folk.
It was a dream.