Marpi Point
*Trigger Warning*
Saipan, 1944.
The woman, unknown and seen from far away, is obviously terrified. Her head is full of many words but no doubt and her eyes dart about, as do her hands. Her head swivels, now searching for a handhold, now looking behind her at the approaching soldiers.
They are devils, she has been told, they will capture you, rape you, mutilate your body and eat you. No one will be spared. Not even the children. It is much better to end it yourself.
Her small hands grapple at the rocks as she slides her slight, dark body onto the cliff ledge, edging closer to the netherworld with focused determination, her clothing like sails billowing in the wind.
She must do this. She must do this thing.
She is not scared of what awaits her below. She is only scared of the approaching soldiers — their large, looming bodies and fierce, unnaturally light eyes.
She must do it before they can take her.
One soldier brings an instrument up to his lips and words suddenly boom at her — Japanese, but she does not understand it.
There is no time. She is running out of time. She is sure of her fate.
She jumps with confidence, no hesitation, embracing the movement as if jumping into a summer’s pool. She…
