He opens the door and I know it would have been a very loud metal against metal sound but the violence of the wind keeps my ears from having to experience that. I pull my goggles down over my eyes and walk a little closer to the entrance of the plane.

"YOU OKAY?" I barely hear him over the chug of the plane and the craziness of the wind.

"YEAH! CAN I JUMP NOW?" I say trying not to scare everyone again. Earlier I tried to open the door and jump out on my own because Jordan wouldn't stop arguing with the guide. Are these rope things supposed to connect here? Are we low enough? Yeah well opening the door to an airplane was not the best solution as I figured out when they all freaked and ran at me. They actually grabbed me and made me sit down. Like I was the crazy one.

"YOU'RE EAGER THAT'S FOR SURE." He looks at Jordan cowering in her chair. She decided not to jump with me. That's okay. She kinda invited herself along anyway. Claiming that best friends don't let their friends do crazy things by themselves. "IS SHE COMING?" I don't even need to look back at her to know that, "NO. SHE'S NOT COMING."

Maybe it wasn't the best idea.

Maybe I should have thought it through more.

Maybe…

I jumped.

No one has ever made this much of a fuss over me. Emergency cars quickly stopping. Jordan breaking through the police tape only to be wrestled to the ground by Baldy. Above me they gesture and mouth things. Huh, maybe my ears are taking a quick break. I'm sure they'll be back soon.

Carefully, quickly, they transfer me to the gurney. Pain rips through my body starting at my head and rampaging through my chest, some splitting off to take care of my arms. Down through my must be shattered ribs. The gurney hits a bump on the ground and I am suddenly aware of the agony pooling in my right hip. I savor every jolt of pain. Every twinge and sting. All over my body I bask in the pain. I didn't know exactly what I was doing when I took the scissors to my parachute equipment. I cut cords and severed straps. Not soo much that my instructor would notice, seeing as though I'm pretty sure he was stoned, but enough to get something done. I guess I wanted to die. To have all that time to realize why I deserved to as I fell from the heavens and then splat. Lights out. But this. This is better.

"She's creeping me out man." A paramedic says after they close the doors to the ambulance. His red eye brows furrow together as he tries not to look at me. The other paramedic turns from whatever he was doing to glance at me. He looks bored as he says, "Traumatized people do all sorts of weird things."

"Like smile?! Look at her."

"Her can hear you." My voice forces its way out of my mouth shaking to life the ache in my jaw.

"Please don't talk Ma'am. We're taking you to the nearest hospital and you'll be taken care of there." I don't respond mainly because it's more fun to creep out Fire Beard with my smile. After I don't feel the hurt anymore from this accident I won't come up with some grand plan to off myself. I'll just do it the old fashioned way. Pills. A Gun. Wrists in bath tub maybe?

The hardest thing about this whole justice process is not saying anything about it. Some wise man told me that people that are serious about killing themselves don't tell anyone. And that's been hard because I love talking. I love talking about every single thing that pops into my head. I love telling stories over and over until people scream at me to stop telling it. I just love it. But this is important. The United States justice system deemed me not responsible for Sam's death without even a trial. I wasn't even a suspect. And when I confessed to killing him, they thought that emotionally hurting him wasn't the same. But if they knew the situation then they wouldn't have questioned it. I didn't fight hard enough to convince them. I should have lied and told them that I was the one that shot him. But No. no.

Before I know it I'm being wheeled into the surgery room. A slight sting in my arm. I count backward from one hundred, my vision blurring as I do.