And I will find out if Elina was truly right.
Despite the deafening rain, I can hear my heart pounding. My throat feels like it's constricted, as if I am tightening a noose with my own hands.
I feel hot. With restless fingers, I remove the hood of my rain jacket from my head. The cold raindrops instantly soak my hair.
"Help!" I hear it cry out once more. "Is anyone there?"
Tense, I press my lips together and hold my breath.
And then I do it.
I take the decisive step.
The scene before my eyes is so vivid, as if the sun is shining with all its might, illuminating even the most hidden corners.
There are long skid marks in the earth, leading straight to the edge of the precipice.
Straining to find Julian, I stumble down.
But there's no trace of my friend.
Instead, I spot Elina.
The voice from earlier. It belonged to her.
Drenched from head to toe, with a scraped forearm and dirt smudged on her cheek, she crouches on the ground. Her right shoe is missing, and her eyes are closed.
Is she real? Is she truly here? Or is my mind playing tricks on me?
Regardless of what's happening, I need to help her.
"What happened?" I climb down to her as quickly as I can, scanning her body for injuries.
There's a gash on the back of her head. Her limbs seem fine except for the ankle of her right foot, which is swollen to at least twice the size it should be.
"Elina, my love, can you hear me?" I gently stroke her cheek, but she only responds with a soft whimper.
Suddenly, the scene around me changes. My memory violently resurfaces. Before me lies not the woman I love.
No. It's Julian.
My best friend suddenly curls up before my eyes, his face contorted in pain. This image, forcefully pushing its way into my mind, is so real that I can't distinguish it from reality.
A sharp pain shoots through my shoulder, right where the scar from the day Julian died in this gorge resides.
Without hesitation, just as I did back then, I fall to my knees in front of him. Both then and now, I feel the damp earth seeping through my pants.
Routine takes over as I examine his body for injuries. "There's hardly any blood," I murmur, bewildered. The way he contorts and screams in frontof me, he should be severely injured. Yet all I see is a small wound on his forehead. "There's hardly any blood, Julian!" Fear lingers in my voice.
He doesn't respond. He only clutches his stomach and screams in agony.
I look up the precipice.
Something is not right.
"You only slid a few yards," I shout in a shrill tone against the thunderous rain. "Such a small mishap shouldn't affect you like this."
Clearly, my best friend is unable to answer.
