And she hit the ground.

A push. She was flying. She did not know if it was a dream or if she was really floating in the night sky. But she felt the cold hands on her back, the abrupt push, could hear the screams, feel the dizzyness all over again. And she was flying now for what seemed like eternity. Was she going to die? Was she already dead? Had she ever really lived? She did not know. Her entire life was shattered into pieces. Into tiny slivers of unmatching scenes. Who pushed her down the balcony? Who betrayed her in this very coldhearted way?  Why didn't he confront her? She knew she was going to die now. She knew she would soon hit the ground and turn into a bundle of flesh and broken bones. She knew she was worth nothing, but a headline in some newspaper and an unjust verdict in a corrupt court, now. She knew what they were going to say; that she committed suicide. People are going to judge her. Not even a dead person can rest in this society, she thought. They are going to bury her with enough rumors to keep her awake, even in her grave. She foresaw her social as well as her physical death and was not able to change it. Her mind -crowded with thoughts- said his last farewells to her. She will never be able to finish reading her book again. She will never be able to hug her son again. She was worth nothing, but a memory. And she hit the ground.