Beauty and the Beast

She was beautiful. She knew that. It was the source of the whole problem. A beautiful girl must have a suitable death. Long illnesses were unacceptable. Mere traffic accidents, unthinkable. Violence was potentially viable, within certain limits. It was the lack of control, the variables, that made it risky.

Ideally, she would stand on a great height, face down a monstrous presence, scream dramatically, and fall to a tragic end. And now, at last, she was ready. She stood atop the skyscraper, watching the tiny people below. The ground trembled, as under the impact of a mighty foot. She smiled.