CHAPTER ONE

EDGE

The car pulled up to the kerb at speed, mounting the pavement. Its front wheels skewed across the path, the engine still revving. A bright, nostalgic psychedelic pop track blasted from the sound system—‘Kites’ by Simon Dupree and the Big Sound looping on the dashboard display.

A man climbed out and slipped, almost falling, as he stepped onto the wet grass. The car door hung open, the headlights on full beam, the music still blaring. He moved away—hesitant at first, then faster. He passed the Samaritans sign—ALWAYS THERE, DAY AND NIGHT—and ignored the helpline number.

He was alone, and the surrounding storm howled as if it wanted him gone. The wind seemed to usher him to where the land vanished into an abyss, darkness broken by the lights of distant ships and the beam of the red-and-white striped lighthouse—each slow sweep catching his eye, as if the light itself was searching.

Beneath his hospital clogs, the chalk cliffs were fragile and crumbling as he stood at the grassy edge. He had left work without changing; his scrubs still clung to him, blood from his last patient staining the fabric. He hadn’t even made it home.

It was just before midnight. Rain lashed sideways across his face. The clouds were fast-moving, with a crescent moon appearing before vanishing again. There were no tourists. No ramblers. No dog walkers. Only him, the cliff, the sheer drop and the waves below breaking against rocks.

He closed his eyes, tears hidden in the rain.

A nurse.

Burnt out.

A disappointment.

A human.

He didn’t write a note. There was nothing left to say that hadn’t already been said in meetings and emails. People who once mattered now existed only as WhatsApp messages marked as read.

Attached to his pocket, his ID badge flapped against his thigh. It still read:

OSCAR PALMER

REGISTERED NURSE – CRITICAL CARE

SOUTH THAMES HOSPITAL

Funny how someone trained to keep people alive could reach the point of not wanting to stay alive themselves.

The wind picked up. He stepped forward. Just a little more.

And then a light. Not lightning. Not the lighthouse.

Stillness.

A fracture in the sky, as if something had split the night open from the inside.

He felt the fall begin, and in silence waited for the impact.

End of the supplied Chapter One extract