“It is said that the best and fastest way to deal with someone who is suicidal is to start actively trying to . Self-preservation is a tough habit to kick, and like any addiction the withdrawal symptoms can be deadly if not treated properly. It is one thing to take a cowardly jump off a cliff and end it all. In that situation you have total control of where and, more or less, when you are going to die. But in a situation where you are being attacked or chased, that basic fight-or-flight survival instinct kicks in, and forces the would-be statistic to re-think their decision and, more often than not, realize they really do want to live.”

“Going to a new home,” said the social worker reassuringly. “Nice place, right near the beach.”

Hunter didn’t respond. He just kept staring out the window at the timeless, churning sea, where the sun turned the waves a soft golden brown. He didn’t really care about where he was, who he was staying with, or even if he had food to eat or a place to sleep. Life was a battle, and this young warrior was getting tired of fighting it.

“Buck up kid,” the social worker said seriously. “You’ve got a whole life ahead of you, now is no time to be getting depressed.”

Hunter snorted his reply and continued staring out the window at the golden reflection on endless plane of blue. Blues and gold’s and browns and greens ran together in a painted tapestry like a giant hand woven rug.

They arrived at the foster home less than an hour later. From the road it was hidden by a succession of dunes, like an ancient mott and bailey castle. The building was situated high on a promontory of rock from which it could survey the world around, but not be seen by the approaching invader.

The promontory dropped off sharply to one side with the waves crashing far below, while on the landward side it slopped gently to meet the dunes and the road. A path lead around the base of the escarpment to a secluded beach upon which the blue waves crashed gently but unceasingly.

The car he was riding in came to rest at the base of the hill, where a path lead to a staircase made from bits of driftwood and climbed a slope to the building. The house itself was very modern, looking out of place in its picturesque surroundings. It was covered with solar panels and wide bay windows. From the outside, it looked like a perfectly nice place with a lot of really nice views.

Hunter went through the greetings autonomously, committing names to memory along with names. He had learned long ago not to get attached to his foster homes. The succession he’d been living in for the past few months had been no different.

The family, the Smiths, already had one foster child, a young girl who was a little older than Hunter. She was much shorter and smaller she somehow looked more like a twelve-year-old than fourteen.

It was getting on towards winter and cold winds were blowing across the secluded beach property. His room was quite cozy, but he had a hard time thinking anyone had it worse off than him at that point. He tried hard every day to not feel sorry for himself; so many people already felt sorry for him that he knew it wouldn’t do any good. Instead he tried every day just to survive, and as often as possible help others. As much as he hated the thought, he didn’t do it because they needed help, but because it made him feel less bad about himself.

“I must be the most pathetic person on earth,” he said to himself. All he really wanted to do was be alone and not think, just curl up in a cocoon of null thought and forget everything existed, to reach out for the quiet sanctuary and feel the outside world without terrestrial senses. It was a form of meditation he’d stumbled upon some years ago; it helped him reach beyond the chaos of the world and draw strength from the quiet within himself. It wasn’t much, but it was all he had right then.

* * *

Hunter was getting depressed, and he knew it. He wanted to fight it, wanted to escape the vacuum of sorrow that threatened to suffocate him with all its might. At times like this he preferred to just lay there, calmly going over times tables in his head until the feelings passed.

From his vantage point he could see out the door of his room, through the hall, and into his new foster sister’s room. Her name was Massey, and she too was lying on her bed and staring into space. He wondered if she was feeling about how he was right then. As he watched, she slipped down and crossed the hall into his room.

“Hi Hunter,” she said quietly.

“Hey,” Hunter sighed. “What's up?”

“I dunno,” Massey replied. “Just felt like talking to someone.”

Hunter nodded.

“Sadly, there’s not really anything to talk about,” Massey admitted with a forced laugh.

“I hear ya there,” Hunter chuckled weakly. “Why are us orphans so pathetic?”

“Don’t know,” shrugged Massey. She walked over to his bed and slumped against the side. “Everyone feels sorry for us, but no one cares how we really feel.”

“Why should they?” Hunter asked. “Why should they even feel sorry for us? What good does it really do?”

“Nothing, I guess,” sighed Massey. “Its just… sometimes it hurts so much inside; and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“Hmm. They say everyone carries a little personal pain inside,” Hunter pushed himself up on his elbows. “And you get a little stronger when you share it with someone.”

“Really?” Massey looked up at him curiously. “Where did you hear that?”

“Dunno,” Hunter chuckled. “I think from someone old and wise, most likely. I run into a lot of people like that. So, care to share?”

Massey sighed and pulled her knees up under her chin.

“I feel so lost all the time,” she explained. “I feel like I have no future because of my past. My mother was a drug addict, that’s why I’m so little, and my father—I don’t even want to think about it. Anyway, there’s nothing for me. Sometimes I just want to throw it all away, end it now.”

“That wouldn’t be a good idea,” replied Hunter. “Life is one race you win by finishing last, and no one should ever lose it. There is always a light at the end of the tunnel; sometimes you just have to wait and go around a few turns before you can see it.”

“Nice wishful thinking,” sighed Massey. “But I really don’t feel that way—”

“Why not?” asked Hunter. “Look at me, I have a felony record a mile long, I’m not letting it hold me back. I’m moving as fast as I can; running through the night and waiting for dawn to pierce the darkness.”

Massey stared for a while, so Hunter continued.

“Everyone just gets one life to live,” Hunter explained. “If you give that up, you’re throwing away the greatest gift you’ve ever received. Life is a fragile thing, you’ll be riding high one minute, and dashed upon the rocks the next. The only thing that really matters is what we do with the time we have.”

“You’re pretty smart, you know,” said Massey. “For someone your age. Half the social workers I’ve dealt with weren’t as smart as you.”

“I learn what I can,” Hunter shrugged. “I’ve got no other choice. I’m tied down by my age right now, but some day I’m going to spread my wings and fly away.”

Massey smiled at him and giggled. “Thanks, I feel a lot better now.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“I really wish there were more people like you in the world, Hunter. I really do,” Massey told him as she stood up to leave.

“Oh sure, you say that now,” Hunter replied. “But as soon as I hijack another fire truck you’ll be advocating excessive force, just like everyone else.”

Massey threw her head back and laughed.

* * *

It was afternoon again in the house by the beach, getting on towards another sunset.

Hunter found himself standing on his left hand, balancing on the foot-board of his bed as he so often did, with his right arm stretched out straight and his feet in the air. He was balanced as perfectly as possible, every muscle except for one hardly daring to move.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

His beating heart was the only movement. Even his lungs drew so little air his chest did not rise or fall, just suck and blow, maybe just with the muscles of his throat.

His heartbeat threw him off, but he used his right arm to balance. He could stay this way for hours, but eventually his body began to cramp from the stiff way he held himself. He also concentrated so hard that any disturbance would send him toppling.

This time it was a scream from outside. Hunter’s whole body shook with a start and he toppled over onto the hard wood floor. He lay motionless for a moment, wondering why it didn’t hurt very much, and then walked deftly down the stairs towards the back door.

Outside near the cliff he saw Mr. and Ms. Smith standing close together, watching Massey. She was standing very close to the edge, looking over at the ocean.

“She’s going to jump!” Ms. Smith shouted to Mr. Smith. “She’s going to jump! Do something! Do SOMETHING!”

Hunter stood back and watched, not really sure of the situation. Massey didn’t really look like she was about to jump, but then Hunter had never seen someone threatening to commit suicide.

“I called the social worker and the police,” Mr. Smith replied urgently. “I didn’t know what else to do!”

“Don’t jump honey,” Ms. Smith pleaded. “Please don’t jump.”

Massey turned and looked back at them, Hunter could see tears glistening on her face. Her whole body s she took another tiny step towards the cliff. Hunter quietly began to approach her, carefully planning out what he would do next, trying to anticipate her moves.

And then she did jump.

No graceful dive; no heroic fall, Massey just sort of went limp and threw herself over the edge towards the waves crashing against the deadly rocks far bellow.

Hunter didn’t hesitate a moment; he charged towards the cliff with all his might, feet beating against the loose topsoil, legs breaking the shoreline plants that threatened to slow him.

With a mighty push from his muscular legs, he leapt off into the blue.

Hunter had made a hobby of leaping from high places. Bridges, dams, buildings overhanging rivers; anywhere he could get some good hang time and be assured of a wet landing. Cliffs had never held anything for him; unpleasantness usually lurked at the bottom in the form of concealed jagged rocks and deceptive shallows. Unfortunately, he couldn’t simply stand by and do nothing while Massey tried to .

Almost immediately, as Hunter saw the white breakers far below he knew he had made a mistake. This was the sort of thing you didn’t survive, unless you were either very lucky or very strong.

Not far below he could see Massey falling.

Hunter pushed his arms to his side to try and catch up.

He caught her ankle first, pulling himself down the length of her body until he could grab her shoulders.

“You crazy jerk! What are you doing?” she shouted over the roar of the wind, tears streaming out of her eyes as they fell.

Hunter didn’t reply. He quickly maneuvered her slim form into his chest and held her tight. His back was facing the crashing waves, and as he looked over his shoulders, submerged rocks that held a painful end to an interesting, if breezy, ride.

Hunter concentrated hard, trying to think of something to do, some way out of this situation. The water was fast approaching.

The water.

From as high up as they had jumped, water was as hard as concrete; harder some said. And then it was also pretty shallow where they were landing. But if the surface tension was broken by the wave action it would be softer, then there was still the depth to worry about.

Maybe he could do a little something about that.

Hunter concentrated hard, reaching out with his mind to the waves.

Water was difficult; the millions of molecules each wanting to do the same thing, but each acting as if they’d decided to do it of their own accord. Solid things were much easier to manipulate; even sand was easier than water. But to command water, you had to command each and every molecule individually.

He could feel the water with his mind; he could feel every one of the billions of molecules, sense their movement. As he concentrated harder he was able to grasp control of them; not so much to direct them, but sort of make suggestions.

A huge wave formed offshore and rolled in, welling up against the cliff beneath them.

The wave broke below sloshing up to greet them like a happy dog come to see its owners after a long trip.

They hit a moment later, the turbulent outflow cushioning their fall as the backwash from the wave hitting the cliff pulled them out beyond the breakers and deadly rocks.

Hunter broke the surface first, still holding onto Massey and pushing her above the water so she could get a breath. He quickly turned her around into a standard lifeguard carry and began to swim. They were past the breakers, but Hunter quickly realized they were heading for the open ocean.

Bobbing up on a swell he caught a glimpse of the coast. To the south the shoreline continued along in bluffs and cliffs, but just east of the house it broke into broad beaches and headed around a bend. Another quick gulp of air, and he headed for the beach.

“Are you okay?” Hunter panted as his feet finally touched the sandy bottom.

Massey pushed her wet brown hair away and looked up at him angrily.

“Why?” she hissed through clenched teeth. “Why did you do it? Why?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Hunter retorted calmly but firmly. “What were you thinking? Jumping off a cliff—it’s insane.”

“You jumped after me,” she coughed. “Why couldn’t you just leave me alone?”

“You think I’d just let you die?” Hunter asked. “Just fall to your death without trying something? Damn it Massey! What the hell is wrong with you? You were fine earlier, why can’t you just live?”

“I don’t wanna live!” she screamed and started fighting him, trying to push her head under the splashing waves. “I don’t wanna live! I don’t wanna—”

Hunter slipped his arms under her shoulders and pushed her high over the water, thankful that she was so light and small. He carried her up the beach and tossed her on the sand. Massey began to crawl back towards the ocean.

Hunter slid down and landed next to her. He grabbed her shoulder and flipped her over on the sand. Quickly, he bunched up his fist and hit the sand next to her face so hard it made a small crater and kicked up a cloud of debris.

Massey blinked sand out of her eyes and squirmed away, moving on her back like a snake over the ground. Hunter leapt to his feet and gave chase, grabbing her shoulder and forcing Massey to her feet, then making her run.

Hunter exhaled as he drew heat from the late afternoon sun. He fired a powerful energy blast over her right shoulder that struck a dune and threw up a wash of sand in her path.

Massey screamed angrily and ran through the spray. Hunter chased after her and fired another violent energy blast, toppling the frightened girl onto a pile of driftwood.

She grabbed a long stick of bamboo washed up from some distant land and held it up threateningly like a staff.

Hunter kicked a similar piece out of the sand by his feet and caught it expertly, moving towards her to make battle. She clearly had no experience as a stick fighter, but was ready to use anything at her disposal to defend herself.

The bamboo polls thwacked together as he parried her attacks and made a few of his own, careful not to slip through her ragged defense. Then Massey turned her pole around and tried to stab at him, using the broken bamboo like a spear.

He caught the end with his hand and splintered the wood, while swinging his own pole around and knocking her legs out from under her.

Hunter was on Massey in a second, sitting hard on her stomach with a little more force than he had intended and knocking the wind out of her. Over and over he struck the sand on either side of her head, so hard he started to dig holes with his pounding fists. All the while she cried like a maniac at him to stop, not to hurt her, to leave her alone.

On the path to the house Hunter saw the Smiths approaching, probably almost in shock from what they’d seen. Hunter pulled his arm back and slapped Massey across the face as hard as he could, silencing her frantic cries, then stood and pulled the frightened girl to her feet.

“Thanks,” she coughed as she dusted sand off of her rumpled, wet clothes. “Thank you, I—I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Don’t mention it,” Hunter replied as he dusted his own clothes off and turned to meet the mortified foster parents.

“But what were you thinking, Hunter?” Massey asked. “Jumping off a cliff like that? That was suicide.”

“Seeing as we’re both standing here now, I’d have to disagree,” retorted Hunter as he cracked his knuckles and dusted sand out of his hair.

“And I really don’t understand why you tried to kill me after you saved my life,” Massey brushed stray wisps of brown hair off her face. “I was so scared—”

“I wasn’t finished saving your life until you started fighting back,” Hunter explained sternly. “Still wanna kill yourself?”

“No,” Massey admitted quickly shaking her head. “I can’t see why I ever did, now.”

“I heard somewhere,” Hunter explained slowly. “That the best way to deal with someone who’s suicidal is to start actively trying to . By putting your life in danger the way I did, I forced you to realize that you didn’t want to die. Now isn’t that lovely?”

Massey stared at him incredulously.

“I think you’re mad,” her voice dripped with venom. “You were trying to kill me.”

“I was never actually going to hurt you, if I’d wanted you dead you wouldn’t be here right now. In fact it was really hard not to hurt you back there, you know you’re a terrible fighter.”

Hunter had noticed in his life that people of all ages were prone to dramatic mood swings. This girl in particular had gone from depressed, to elated, to suicidal, to thankful, to angry, and back to depressed, all in the few hours he’d known her. She was so unpredictable he was just playing it by ear now.

“It’s all useless though,” Massey sighed. “Life or death, I’m still in same rut I was an hour ago. I have no future, and my past will keep it that way. Now they’re going to drag me in to see head doctors left and right, they’ll put me in some institution, they’ll—”

“Look,” Hunter interrupted. “Who cares what tomorrow will bring? The future isn’t something you can control; but if you believe in yourself, you create your own destiny. The past is nothing but a memory for the present and a lesson for the future, you just ignore it, it’s easy.”

“But I—”

“No buts!” Hunter pointed an accusing finger at her. “Just be who you are and live! Live each day as it comes. Just keep breathing, and tomorrow the sun will rise!”

Massey collapsed to her knees and began sobbing uncontrollably.

“How do you know?” she wept.

“I really don’t,” Hunter shrugged as he sat down next to her. “But look on the bright side, even if the sun doesn’t rise tomorrow the world will still be illuminated by a giant ball of burning gas, so everything will work out in