The rusty iron door on the roof-deck slowly creaked open. Tiny flakes of red dust fell like raindrops, scattering across the dim, dark ground. She moved towards the edge of the roof, her steps sluggish, as if each foot was weighed down by a block of lead. The distance, which used to be a brief, ten-second walk, usually bathed in the sun, had become an endless tunnel, completely devoid of light. During these long ten minutes, she walked slowly, painfully, and alone across the rooftop, each step feeling like a journey through an endless void.
She lifted her gaze to the towering wall standing at the edge of the roof-deck. The paint, weathered by the passage of time and worn from her countless climbs and struggles, had peeled away in patches, exposing the rough bricks beneath. The wall, scarred and pitted, bore a stark resemblance to the remnants of post-wartime bunkers.
She took a deep breath, carefully searching for bricks and indentations that could support her ascent, and she began to climb the wall. Stretching her hand out, she grasped a worn crevice and tried to pull upwards, but her fingers quickly gave, and she fell. She picked herself up and found another foothold -- she stepped on it, stretching her arms as high as possible, yet she could only touch the corner of the top of the wall. Concentrating all her strength in her fingers, she tried to haul herself up. Once again, she fell. She knew others considered her to be timid; they often called her "the easily frightened little devil." They would place dead rats in her bag, mocking her reactions. This time, she refused to be frightened. She would prove them wrong. Weariness had settled in from the constant scrutiny of how others perceived her. Breathing laboriously, she again sought a grip in the rough brick crevices. Each of her upward movements was powered by all her strength. Finally, after numerous attempts, her palms reached the top. With all her might, she pulled herself up and successfully sat atop the wall. She didn't feel joy in her effort, but a sense of relief: "Ah, I finally made it here," she whispered to herself.
Gusts of wind swept over the rooftops, whirling around her. The sky, cloaked in a blanket of gray clouds, cast a cool, desolate shadow over the scene, chilling her to the bone. She curled up there, her arms wrapped around her knees that she drew to her chest, trying to capture a sliver of warmth in the cold air. Silently, she gazed at her legs, marked with numerous wounds, some from climbing the wall, others from beatings by others.
Two days earlier, after school, a familiar scene played out on the campus path. A few figures suddenly appeared, and she couldn’t escape them. "You wretched rat, pretending to be all aloof and superior for today again, huh?" Panic flickered in her eyes, her voice trembling: "I... I just didn't want to draw attention." The girls' faces twisted in mockery and dissatisfaction; their words were filled with insults. The leader, with an icy voice, issued a merciless command: "Damn you! Who gave you the nerve to ignore me the entire day, today? Teach her a lesson!" As the leader’s words fell, the others pounced like wild beasts, roughly grabbing her collar, their fists and feet mercilessly striking and kicking her. After their tirade, they left with cruel threats. She lay crying, curled up on the ground, her clothes torn, her body marked with both new and old wounds. After they departed, the campus path returned to tranquility, leaving her alone, lying there. She looked up at the sky. The evening sun cast a lonely shadow over her.
She snapped back to reality. The biting wind slashed across her face like a blade, yet couldn't stir her icy, rigid expression. The weight of life had left her with deep imprints. Her mother had passed away when she was very young; her father was always hustling in various gambling dens during the day and preoccupied at bars and nightclubs. Ever since she could remember, she had done everything alone. Her inner vulnerability had gradually been buried deep within.
At dusk, the streetlights began to flicker, and the bustling noise of the city rose and fell, composing another kind of noisy symphony. She lowered her head, looking down at the street below. Unnoticed, the crowd had gathered into a sea of people, all of whom had become aware of her sitting atop the building. Their conversations, mingling with the wind, reached her ears. Many of them looked up, their eyes fixed on her. She felt irritated. Their lingering eyes are nothing more than disturbance. Turning away, her gaze lost in the distance, her heart harbored only the desire to escape this noisy world.
But it seemed the bustling world was unwilling to let her go. Suddenly, a sharp shout erupted from the crowd below – "Jump!" – like a stone thrown into a tranquil lake, creating ripples upon ripples. This cry stirred an inexplicable excitement among the onlookers, igniting their deep-seated desire for a spectacle without fear of the consequences. Then, more shrill and piercing voices followed in quick succession, turning the tiny ripples into relentless waves that battered her:
"Why haven't you jumped yet?"
"If you're going to jump, do it quickly!"
"Do you dare to jump or not?"
These indifferent words cut through the last thread of connection she had with the world, one slice after another. Each word pushed her towards an irreversible brink. In that moment, everything around her seemed to become blurred, leaving only those menacing voices echoing in her ears, completely isolating her from everything else.
As the night came, one by one, the street lamps slowly came to life, casting their dim glow on the deserted streets. The lights crept up the cracks in the old walls, each beam paving a shimmering path for the journey she was about to embark on, akin to the cluster of stars in the night sky.
She turned her head, slowly rising to her feet, her palms gently patting off the dust from her body as if to brush away the burdens and bonds of the mundane world. Gradually, she spread her arms wide, tilted her head back, took a deep breath, and then slowly closed her eyes.

“She gathered up all the courage
and leaped across the sky.
She became a bird, she grabbed the clouds,
Turned into the wind and flew into the distance.”

Thud.

The sky, too, seemed to feel her despair, growing heavy and somber. Drops of heaven’s tears quietly slid from above. These raindrops, cold and fine, fell upon her, trickling down her pale skin, each drop narrating a tale of sorrow. Her body, no, everything in her world, gradually lost its warmth in this light rain. Silent blood flowed on the cold asphalt, quietly accompanying her through this still and lengthy night.
“Goodbye.”

She Used to be Alive.