The biting wind of London cut through Nova’s threadbare hoodie, a familiar companion in her eighteen years of loneliness. Kicked out of the only home she’d ever known, the orphanage, she stood on the edge of a bridge overlooking the murky Thames.

Her stomach ached with hunger, a dull throb that had become a constant. But deeper still was the ache in her heart, a gaping wound left by Andy, her only friend, who had found his own escape from this cruel world just a month ago. He’d jumped from this very bridge, a final, desperate act that echoed in Nova’s mind.

“I fucking give up!” she screamed at the indifferent sky, her voice raw and hoarse. “Congrats life, you won!”

The thought of joining Andy, of ending the ceaseless pain, was a perverse comfort. But the river, dark and churning below, filled her with an ancient, primal fear. She’d always been afraid of water. It was an irrational fear, she knew, but it held her back.

Yet, the alternative was another day in the cold, unforgiving world, another day of scrounging for dirty jobs that felt too much like the slavery she’d escaped. No education, no prospects, just a broken, angry orphan. It was a choice between two terrors.

With a sudden, reckless surge of defiance against her own fear, Nova ran. She didn't hesitate this time, launching herself over the railing, a silent scream of surrender and desperation caught in her throat. The cold, dark water rose to meet her, claiming her in an instant.