Voices in a Circle: Part Eight - The Edge of the Cliff (James)

James leans forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees, his hood slipping further down his back. He’s been sitting in silence, staring at the floor, trying to ignore the way everyone seems to be waiting for him to say something.

“I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff,” he says finally, his voice low and rough.

The words linger in the air, and James can feel their weight settle over the group. He glances up briefly, catching Zoe’s intense gaze and Lila’s trembling hands twisting her bracelet. The therapist waits patiently, her calm expression unchanging.

“It’s not like I want to jump,” James continues, shrugging slightly. “It’s more like…I’m just standing there. Looking down. And I’m so fucking tired of holding on. Like, what’s the point?”

Lila swallows hard, her voice quiet but steady. “Do you ever step back?”

James hesitates, his hands clenching into fists. “Sometimes. Not always. But…sometimes.”

Zoe leans forward, her green eyes blazing. “You’re here. That’s stepping back.”

James laughs bitterly. “Yeah, but for how long? How many times can you step back before you just…can’t anymore?”

“You don’t have to think about forever,” Sam says quietly. His voice is calm, but there’s a weight to it. “Just think about today. One step back is still a step.”

James glances at him, surprised. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not,” Sam replies simply. “But it’s possible.”

The therapist speaks gently, her voice grounding. “James, stepping back isn’t about fixing everything all at once. It’s about choosing to stay. To keep going, even when it feels impossible.”

James exhales sharply, his shoulders slumping. “It doesn’t feel like enough.”

“It is,” Lila says softly, her voice trembling. “It’s so much more than you think.”

Elena shifts in her chair, her tone sharper. “I feel like that all the time. Like I’m standing on the edge, and all it would take is one little push. But I don’t know how to step back. I just…stand there.”

James looks at her, his jaw tightening. “That’s what I’m talking about. Just…standing there. And the longer you stand, the harder it gets to move.”

The therapist nods, her voice steady. “What keeps you standing, James? What keeps you from stepping forward?”

James shrugs, his fingers flexing against his knees. “I don’t know. Habit, maybe. Fear. Guilt.” He pauses, his voice softening. “That kid in the garage last week. He didn’t know it, but he gave me a reason. At least for that moment.”

“That’s all you need sometimes,” Zoe says. “Just one moment to remind you why you’re still here.”

James lets out a slow breath, his hands unclenching slightly. “I guess.”

“You’re here,” Sam says. “That’s not nothing.”

The therapist leans forward, her tone gentle but firm. “You’ve already taken a step back, James. Just by being here, by sharing this, you’ve chosen to keep going. That’s a powerful choice.”

The silence that follows feels different, lighter. James leans back in his chair, his hood slipping off completely. He doesn’t feel okay—he’s not even sure he knows what that feels like anymore—but for now, stepping back feels like enough.