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Perched on top of this cliff, overlooking the waves, I think about her. It's raining. My wet matted hair clings to my skin. The falling water hammers against my face. It stings.
I remember the times we used to argue. We used to argue about clothes. She stole mine so I borrowed hers. We couldn't share anything. But we passed that phase when we grew up and became sisters. We grew up and out of the childish squabbling and started to do things with each other. We would go all sorts of places together, cinema, shopping or anywhere which required us to leave our home. As we got older still our mum would allow us to go on more bold voyages such as camping trips in the fields or taking the train to the beach, sometimes we would go wandering anywhere.
Tears fall from my weepy eyes. I miss those days. That's what got us in this situation. I wish she could be here she's gone and she's never coming back. We went on a trip together, I returned without her. Before she went we were walking through a field. We missed all the signs. A mean goat charged her. She was terrified. I was wetting myself with laughter! We agreed that this would be something that we would laugh about in the future but we never got a chance to.
I stand up.
I got my foot stuck in the mud once and lost my shoe. She fished it out for me. She was that sort of sister. The icy wind starts to pick up. I shiver and pull my sweater tight around my torso as a desperate attempt to banish the cold.
When I returned home without her I didn't know what to do. I was scared. I told my parents we got split up and I lost her. They automatically feared the worst. They were right to. They called the police who sent a rescue squad to look for her but I knew they wouldn't find her because she is gone and she's never coming back and it's my entire fault.
My mum was completely distraught. I wanted to tell her what happened but I obviously couldn't. I thought it would break her heart.
When her body was found my mum didn't want to talk. She was to upset to function. They correctly blamed me. It was my fault.
I saw her body in the morgue. It was morbid. I could not stop weeping. I went to school and all my peers acted as if there was nothing wrong like they didn't have a care in the world but I knew there was. My parents knew there was.
My dad didn't turn up to her black funeral, and halfway through my mum ran off howling. Some other relatives went to comfort her. I felt as if I was tearing the family apart. Other people drifted away as the funeral progressed until the vicar and I were standing in the crematory in solitude, him talking to a child and an invisible audience. The vicar departed when his speech ended leaving me and her alone. I sat and talked to her begging her for her forgiveness but it was too late now, I killed her and she can't reply.
I was tormented with dreams, no, nightmares of seeing her calling my name. Screaming. I scream back, waking up in the night only to hear my mum wailing. It became a routine. I gave up when one night I woke to a ringing doorbell calling out to the darkness with only an echo for a reply I crawled out of my bed and shouted to my mum. Hearing no response I strolled into her room to see an empty bed. So I followed the stairs into the hallway, towards the persistent ringing, unhooked the latch, turned the key, wrenched the stiff doorknob round, pulled on the door and it swung towards me with ease.
The police stood in the doorway. I could guess the rest. I broke down. An absent mother, the police what else could it be. They told me the story and immediately left. I gradually edged my way into the kitchen flicking the switch on the kettle the bubbling water laughing torturing me for what I did. So I picked up the kettle, through it at the wall. I then left my house in my dressing gown in bare feet and ran to the train station. Seeing the train I jumped on. An hour later, 3am I am still in my nightwear. I leapt over the fence. I pulled myself through the brambles, pricking and tearing my skin. I ran round the pool of mud and climbed up the hill up to here.
Here the cliffs are tall and craggy. Tall grass strokes and tickles my legs. There are sharp rocks at the foot of the cliff. Pools of foam float on the surface of the sea. It is silent.
So I'm standing on the top of these cliffs staring down at the sea flowing in and out of the rocks the sea foam splits every time the sea crashes against the jagged edge of the cliff. The salty sea air stings my sensitive nostrils and my moist eyes. I wipe them. I gaze down at my feet and see the edge of the cliff crumbling away. I take a step back. This is where I dropped her. She screamed for help but I couldn't help her. I can still hear her calling my name.
'Martha!'
'Martha!'
'Help me!'
'Please Martha!'
Over and over. It's no wonder I couldn't sleep. I sob. I caused this we were messing around. She fell. My hands were slippery. I lost my grip. I dropped her. She continued to fall. It was the image that plagued my dreams, night after night, keeping me awake. When she fell I grabbed the neck chain. Her neck chain.
The sun peeks up behind the clouds after a nights rest. Why can't I end it? I walk towards the cliff. I hold her neck chain. I keep on walking. I can hear the ocean cackling, taunting, and tempting me in the direction of the edge. It wants me. Why did it have to end like this? My bare feet touch the edge of the cliff my toes hugging the chalk stone. They are still muddy. Fragments of earth plummet into the sea. It's a long way down. It's silent, lonely. No one can hear you scream. I jump.
I cling to the only piece left of Rebecca, her neck chain. This is all I have left.