She stood stiffly, peering over the edge at the ground yawning below. The wind blew against her face, a silent warning to step back.

Her mentor thought differently.

"Dia, stop letting your fear still your progress. All you need is a leap of faith." She stood next to her, relaxed and completely at ease, almost like she couldn't see the certain death awaiting them meters below.

"Sakshi, do you not see what I am looking at? That concrete is as unforgiving as an evil overlord! I can almost see myself becoming a splatter of red and brain matter, if I squint hard enough." She exclaimed in distress, perhaps with a little too much gusto. She struggled to balance herself again, wobbling on the precipice of free fall.

Sakshi laughed, unconcerned, going as far as to bounce on her feet. Dia anxiously eyed the few inches between her and the empty air.

"You worry too much, Dia. You will only weigh yourself down. Be free! Feel the wind, the force of the gust! Feel the power in your ankles, in the spring of your feet. Stop thinking. Just feel. You will survive this. You aren't some ordinary creature of habit." Sakshi closed her eyes, facing the sunlight, her short, jagged tresses tickling the base of her neck, like burnt feathers fanning a flame.

Gulping, Dia lowered her eyelashes, curtaining the radiant brown pools that glimmered with doubt. Her knees quaked as she tried to imitate her companion's relaxed posture.

Then she jumped, hand clenching Sakshi's tightly as she soared through the air, almost weightless. The wind slapped against her, like a child trying to lift her up, strong, but not nearly strong enough.

Dia turned to her side and shipped through the loud air.

"Sakshi! Are you sure about this?"

"The question is, are you sure? You are the one who was born with powers", was the only reply she got back.

Suddenly, it all stopped. All her weight came crashing back into her body like an elastic let go after being held taut, and the stinging wind paused, holding its breath. There was no movement, no sound, nothing at all. Just concrete.

Dia anxiously gripped the hand in hers, only to be reassured by a returning squeeze. It will be alright. The pain will pass.

So she gritted her teeth and stayed still, determined to see it through. Determined to survive the wave of black behind her eyes.

She held on to the hand in her grip, and never let go. She held on to that belief.

Two days later, a small article appeared on the eighth page, between the article about an accident at a factory and an advertisement of a new mall.

A schizophrenic patient at the understaffed mental facility had jumped off the roof of the building during lunch. She had been found clutching a doll in her hand. She had died on impact.

A/N:
Just a little something to chew on.

"You talk to God, you're religious. God talks to you, you're psychotic."~ Dr. Gregory House.

Have a nice day/night/noon/afterlife.
Toodles!