Woman from Division

Michelle looks out over the water. She stands on the walkway of the bridge. She can feel the wind against her face and she folds her arms, wishing she'd worn longer sleeves. But a dress seemed like a good idea this morning.

She checks her watch. She's been here two hours, unable to stop herself from looking up and down the bridge, waiting for a familiar dark haired man.

"What time did we say?" she whispers and leans her hands against the guard rail.

She stands there for so long that she loses track of time, her world narrowed to this thin strip of concrete and steel. It grows dark and people are walking next to her but she isn't aware of them.

"It wasn't real," she sobs and covers her face with her hands.

Her next move is not pre-planned, she isn't even aware she's doing it until she hears the screams of the people around her.

The water below is murky and endlessly deep.

Sounds turn into words.

"Jump. Jump. Jump." The people are saying, crowding around her, and she looks over her shoulder to see blood gushing from their noses and mouths.

"You were supposed to join us a long time ago," a voice says behind her and she doesn't have to turn around to know it's Gael.

She peers up and down the bridge one last time, but he's not arriving, he's not coming, she's alone...

She jumps.

Michelle wakes up on the floor, realizing that she'd somehow rolled off the bed during that nightmare. She climbs back into bed, trying to block out the images.

She's alone for the first time in weeks and if they hadn't left on such an odd note last night, she'd go to Tony now.

Instead, she looks up at the ceiling and waits for morning.