A Hop, Skip, and a Jump to Nowhere

Bethany hated her life.

To be fair, it was pretty easy to hate. Her parents were divorced and hardly on speaking terms. Her older sister never wasted a chance to roll her eyes or scoff loudly. Her house was usually cluttered - the fridge usually bare.

But worst of all were the braces.

Not on her teeth, but her legs.

Because Bethany couldn't walk. From the day she was born the doctors told her parents this would be the case - that they shouldn't get their hopes up.

And Bethany was pretty sure what caused them to split, each blaming the other with sorrowful hearts. She was pretty sure it was what made her sister despise her. She had seen the medical bills - she knew the lack of money was a direct result of the cost of her treatment.

And so Bethany hated her life.

Every once and a while, when she could, she would slip out the back door of her father's apartment, and take the elevator as high as it would go. Then, even though it hurt her brittle, malformed bones, she would climb the last flight of stairs, and open the door onto the roof.

Bethany may have hated her life, but she liked the roof. The apartment building wasn't tall, but it was the tallest building in the neighbourhood. It wasn't pretty, but it gave her the chance to see the world from a distance - far enough away that all the painful and grotesque realities would fade into the distance like car engines and children's laughter.

Sometimes, on windy days, Bethany would close her eyes, and stretch out her arms. She'd imagine wings with glorious turquoise feathers, and strong muscles.

Other days, like today, she would find the bottle of Absolut vodka she stowed behind the fan, and take a swig, the burning liquid making her eyes smart and coughs bubble up from her lungs. If she drank enough of it, she could barely feel the strain on her knees and the stiffness in her muscles. Sometimes she would find herself leaning against the wall, staring down at the street below, wondering if maybe she could fly...

Bethany limped her way to her stash, and unscrewed the cap, not letting herself breathe as she drank - as though that could make the rancid alcohol palatable.

Then, letting the fiery sensation subside, she gazed towards the edge of the roof.

Her old sister was a part of the track team, and specialized in triple jump. The few times she talked at home, she called it a hop, skip, and a jump.

Bethany would never be able to join the track team.

But she may be able to hop.

To skip.

To jump.

To nowhere.