He sat there on the edge. One more step and he would fall off. Small stones slid down from under him. His hands gripped the grass so tight that he felt them both turn green. 500 feet straight down, the angry ocean continuously slapped on the ragged rocks.

He took a deep breath and felt the wind slightly change its direction. The forecast said there would be no rain today but it was more like a suggestion. He could smell the moisture in the air. Too much time and effort had been invested, too much preparation, self-doubt, too many judgments, injuries, costly mistakes. It was all or nothing now.

"You will never amount to anything. You're not even a man."

Cold words never left his memory. Prestige education, a successful career, and deep down inside, he was forever that scared boy.

He had been lying there since after school. Dinner was getting cold, but he ignored Mother's pleading. He would get punished anyway. At the moment, he just didn't have any appetite for mash potatoes and green beans.

He was waiting. It would come anytime.

Heavy footsteps approached his room. The stairs creaked violently. He could see a shadow move back and forth from the gap under his door. Then it disappeared.

Was it gone? Really gone? 

Maybe that man was tired today? Or maybe he was not drunk? Maybe something good had happened at the factory?

It got darker. He could tell by the light from his window. Crawling out or staying in? That was the decision.

It was quiet outside. Too quiet. He couldn't hear a sound. Had everyone gone to bed?

He scooted out a little to look at the clock.

8:12. Too early.

His stomach growled. He slowly got out from under the bed. He needed to change out of these soaked and blood-stained clothes. He would find a way to clean them later.

The door suddenly swung open. Breeze hit his face. He needed to move, even just an inch, but he couldn't. His feet were glued to the carpet. A large silhouette was standing by the door and before he knew it, his left cheek burned as if it was on fire and he fell back on the floor.

So dusty, he thought. His brain could not register anything else.

"Stand up and fight like a man! You! Since you like fighting so much..."

The wind was ideal. There were droplets but it was nothing he could not handle. Just a quick glide. The prototype should work. It needed to, or he had quitted the six-figure job for a "hobby".

He stood up, backed away from the edge to a distance.

"You dare to look at me that way?"

He slowed down and stopped, looking toward the dark blue ocean.

"Face me like a man. Punch me. Show me what you can do."

The wind slapped on his face with each step.

One.

"You pussy."

Two.

"Waste of air."

Three.

"Sorry excuse of a human being."

Four.

"You're not my son."

Five.

"I wish you died."

...

He leaped off the rock and soared.