CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED THIRTY NINE

Tegwen sat perched upon a rooftop of one of the taller skyscrapers in the St. Canard skyline. For someone so inclined to pitch herself from impressive heights, it hardly seemed the wisest place to be, especially not when she was so emotionally unstable. But there was a strange solace in her vantage point. Most importantly, no one in the world knew where she was. When she decided to off herself, nobody could get in her way. Until then, she had complete, blessed isolation.

She needed to be alone with her thoughts, desperately hoping that perhaps, in her solitude, she could sort through the events of the previous few weeks and maybe -- just maybe -- come to terms with the wicked tricks Fate had decided to play on her.

In a moment of clarity, Tegwen was certain she'd managed to pinpoint the exact decision that had led to the disaster known as December, 1992.

"I shouldn't have gone ice skating with Gabriel," she said quietly to herself. "God. I should have just kept my distance from her. What the hell is this stupid desire to have friends? Especially Gabriel?!" Her proximity to Steelbeak should have made her completely off-limits for any kind of association, and Tegwen had known that -- on some level -- all along. "Look where it got me!"

The air was bitter cold, and the wind chill dropped the temperature at least another ten degrees. Tegwen brushed tears from her eyes that may have been as much from the wind as they were due to her cruelly sharp memories. She glanced at the sleeve of a sweater that didn't do much to keep her warm in such inclement winter weather. But it was a nice garment, something she might have owned before all hell broke loose in her life. And for that, she had to thank Gabriel. At least their time together had been lucrative on some level. But what the price?

Tegwen had been on the rooftop for a couple hours, either tortured by vivid memories or enticed by images of leaping from the roof. For some reason, the suicide thoughts actually made her sad but she didn't dwell on it. She was frightened she might not like the reason why she had such a change of heart about ridding the world of herself.

Growing irritated, Tegwen opened her journal and uncapped her pen.

12-30-92:

I can't afford a shrink, she wrote. But I need one in the worst way. I needed grief counseling, no doubt. And now I'm absolutely certain I'm going crazy. Lord only knows what the hell is keeping me from jumping from this roof in a fit of unbearable disgust in myself.

I'm dancing around the real problem which is ridiculous considering I'm writing in my journal. What's to dance around?

Tegwen's stomach lurched threateningly. She took a slow, deep breath, willing the nausea to ebb. Then when she felt safe, she continued writing.

No one will ever read this. I have to remember it's just for me, a place I can be honest and candid.

She took another deep breath.



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