500 feet.
That’s how tall the building is. That’s how far she could fall. What would she do in the time it takes her to fall to the ground? Maybe she could think of what could’ve happened if she’d stayed alive. Or maybe she could think about her father and what this would do to him. Or maybe she can think of how this could impact her friends, not like she has many. Or maybe she could think about Miles, and how she’s slowly turning his life into a living nightmare by being so close yet so far away from him. It’s a long fall, after all. A lot to think about.
But she can’t fall. Not today. Of course not today, that would be stupid. Today’s the anniversary of her mother’s death. Who’s selfish enough to take their own life on the day their mother took theirs? Not Gwen. Tomorrow she thinks.
******
100 centimeters.
That’s how long her shoelace is. Hobie’s not home. I can quickly get rid of myself in a few seconds with it. No one would care. But that few seconds…that’s a few seconds of pain. Why must we have to suffer to find peace? Those would be the most painful 30 seconds of her life. More painful than her father’s rejection, more painful than self-isolation, more painful than any passing moment without Miles. More painful than the scars drawn onto her wrists. 30 seconds of pure, unfiltered pain. But she had suffered before, why can’t she do it now?
The door creaks. Hobie’s home. Missed your chance. It's too late now. Plus it’s not fair having a dead girl on your carpet after a month of trying to keep her alive and comfortable. And how’s he gonna explain this to the others? Don’t put the burden on him. Wait to do it alone. Maybe tomorrow? She thinks.
******
1 pull.
That’s what it’ll take to shoot a bullet. She literally has nothing. She may say she has someone, but she has nothing. Honestly, it’d be over so quick, and there would barely be any pain. It’s the perfect solution. She’s been handed this gun as a sign. A sign to tell her to get it over and done with. This may be her only chance. Who wouldn’t give up such an opportunity? It’s not like anyone is stopping her. She’s defeated the villain, no she needs to defeat her own. Everyone would be so happy back home. No more disappointment of a daughter, no more backstabbing crush, no more life endangering superhero. Just gone, in one swift pull of the trigger.
But there are people watching. Clapping. For me? What is this dimension? Why is there a little girl tugging on her suit? Scram, she thinks but does not dare to say aloud. Scram before my brains end up on your blouse. But the little girl is so cute and small and innocent. She says she wants to be like her when she grows up. A hero. She can’t do this. Not in front of this little girl. Not today. Tomorrow.
******
But that tomorrow doesn’t come. Because tomorrow she gets to see the only one that matters. Tomorrow she gets to fight for what she believes in. Tomorrow she gets an apology. Tomorrow she gets to right her wrongs. Tomorrow she gets to defeat. Tomorrow she gets to love and be celebrated. Tomorrow, she gets to experience fucking tomorrow. And no fall, shoelace or trigger was ever going to stop that. She was always going to see tomorrow.
And thank God for that.