one more time

It's the highest hill, with the sharpest slope, at the very edge of the park. Horrible in the daytime, plastered with kids -- running, shrieking, kicking balls around. But late enough at night, it becomes just hers.

Miku stands at the top of the hill. All around her is empty and dark, save for the light-specks from streetlamps and vending machines in the distance. The wind weaves through her hair, grazing scrapes and bruises still tender on her skin from the night before. The night before that, too. But the marks are small and faint, and heal quickly, if left untouched.

(They never are, though.)

With her eyes closed, Miku steps back and draws in a breath. Then she charges forward, and throws herself off the hill's edge.

The wave of adrenaline surges up without fail, seizing her chest as she tumbles down. Her arms and legs flail, uncontrolled, and she cries out as her body catches on bumps and snags in the ground, a rock slamming her knee, a branch slicing her cheek. It only lasts a few moments, but by the time she's landed at the bottom, her heart's beating double time and she can feel her blood pound through her veins, like it's fed in with a bicycle pump.

She sits upright, breathing hard. Smiles.

Then she makes the climb back up again.