Thursday…
The creak came from the beam as the rope swung back and forth. My legs kicked in a subconscious struggle. The beam and rope held my weight well despite this. All seemed perfect. I just did not count on what happened next. My struggles loosened the knots. What
My struggles won just when I thought I was about to meet my maker. The rope untangled and gravity took over. I heavily landed in an awkward position with half of my body on the abandoned stool. I paid little attention to my uncomfortable landing as I gasped and coughed with both relief and pain at the sudden rush of oxygen into my body. I managed to regulate my breathing, only to realize I had other problems. My throat felt too painful to even breathe, and the blood racing to my head had induced a maddening headache that brought tears to my eyes.
My suicide was forgotten as I stood up with great difficulty and I tried to ignore the sharp pains in my hip and shin. I did not need a fortune teller to know that I was going to be bruised and sore all over. I was a mess. The whole thing was a mess. My eyes swept through the room in search of you, wishing hard that you would not pick that moment to appear. I dragged myself to my medicine cabinet. Will all the pain, I needed something strong enough to knock out an elephant. I popped a pill in my mouth only to realize it was too painful to swallow.
I was desperate enough to grind the painkillers, dilute it with water and swallow it in careful sips. Fifteen minutes later, my body was still in pain. I proceeded to search for a syringe and shot some of the coke into my veins. I preferred snorting it but I need a quick fix and this was faster. I then lay on my bed and waited for the quick relief. Sleep was slow to come. Various images played in mind. I kept seeing myself hanging. I wondered who would have found my body. My biggest guess was you. You had stayed away but I knew you would not have resisted another day. I tried not to imagine how you would have reacted to my death. It was something I had stopped thinking of a long time ago. I had finally drifted to a restless sleep filled with nightmares.
The light sipping through my window wakes me. My body protests to any movement. It takes me a moment to drag myself from bed and to my full-length mirror. I pull back the collar of my pajamas. I need to see if I looked as bad as I felt.
Jesus! I cuss as I take a look at the angry bruise on my neck. My fingers slightly feel the imprints of the rope. I wince. It is painful to touch.
Hell! It is even painful to look at. I hold myself still as I try to swallow saliva bracing myself for the pain. There is no pain today but my throat still feels sore.
I suddenly get angry. I scream out my anger, ignoring the strain it caused my throat. It was no longer funny. Failing to kill myself once was fine especially if I had someone ready enough to save my life. But yesterday’s failure pricked my ego. It makes me feel worthless like I have no say in my destiny. I want the control that has long eluded me. Tears trickle down my face. Why couldn’t I choose the way I wanted to die? I need to show that I am not a complete failure in everything. I needed to prove to myself that I and no one else could control my destiny. There has to be a way. I let my mind find a solution.
Finally, it comes to me. A new plan. This time my plan is foolproof. With this new conviction, I wipe away my tears. I look at my image in the mirror. There is a new spark in it. I walk to the bathroom to draw a bath. I let the bath fill up as I decide what I need. I am so engrossed in my thoughts that the bath fills up and spills.
Shit! I rush to close the tap. I look around. The spill was not massive, not like there was anyone who would care. No one would think of the leak on the floor when there is a bigger problem in the bathtub.
Deciding what I want, I walk back to the bedroom to find my hair dryer. I had not used it for a while but I knew it had to be somewhere in my closet. I toss things around in search of it. I finally find it just when I am about to give up and look for a substitute. I smile as I take in the hairdryer. I wondered if the person who invented it knew it would be useful in other ways. My dryer would not fail me this time.
My past failures come to mind. The first case was the excess pills back when Mr. Wrong was still alive. It is ironic that the person who I wished to escape from at the time was the one who saved me. I soon graduated to illegal drugs. They granted me escape from the reality I could not face. I had hoped for an overdose but this too seemed futile. My fixation with suicide had accelerated in the last week with the slashing of my wrists and hanging. My goal eluded me on both counts. I had to make sure that today is my last attempt. I could not fail again. Electrocution is sure to work. It had to.
I strip down to my knickers. I think of taking them off but suddenly decide to keep them. No point in being found completely nude. I laugh at my sudden modesty. I did not think anyone would care if they found my corpse dressed or undressed. All they would think of was finding a dead body. I once again wonder who would be unlucky enough to find my corpse.
I shove the thought at the back of my mind as I head to the bathroom with my new weapon. I get some resistance as I try to plug the hair dryer into the socket by the sink.
Shit! Something was jamming part of the socket.
No! No! I would not fail this time. I push harder but the resistance is still there. I take a deep breath and tell myself to calm down. The socket could be fixed. I leave the bathroom to look for something to pry the socket hole.
There were many things I could use to check out the socket. I see scissors, knives, spoons, pens, you name it. I pick the pen. I push the pen in to find the jam. Something moves with the first stab giving me a little hope. I go at it for a few more minutes, but it could not move further. Running out of patience, I move closer and stand on my toes to see what is stuck inside.
One foot slips from the spilled water and the other follows suit. I lose control of myself as I try to grab the sink but fail. My body falls backward. I bang my temple on something before my head hits the floor. The wind is knocked out of me. I suddenly see white as stars dance before my eyes. I close my eyes to try and regain my breath and my sight. It takes seconds for my sight to clear, but my breathing comes out in shallow pants.
Dread spreads through my body as I realize I cannot move yet all I felt was a dull pain. My eyes look around in alarm; I can see blood from the corner of my eye. The fear becomes reality. I had banged my temple at the edge of the bathtub, and I was bleeding profusely from the open wound.
Christ! I think wildly. This is it… This is it… This is my end. I was wrong… I was very wrong. It seemed that I was not in charge of this part of destiny. This was not how I planned to die. I have once again failed to die on my own terms. Tears pour from my eyes.
Memories flash through my head; my childhood, my adulthood, my family, my friends, the good times and the bad times. Faces spring to mind. The prominent features are those of my parents and Mr. Wrong. I finally see my unborn child, the face I had dreamt of but had never seen. My thoughts revolve around the last week. I think of the people I had met; Skinny dude, the Samaritan, Mr. Ugly and Silent dude. I feel a slight regret that I had not gotten to learn their real names. Maybe I should have paid much attention to them and why they had come into my life. Lastly, I think of you. You have stuck with me through my tribulations, being a representation of hope.
Your form appears with my thoughts. I was right. You would not resist another day without checking up on me. My eyes are blurry yet I could see the terror on your face. No. You could not save me from this. You move closer, fall on your knees and cradle my head on your lap. Tears are also running freely from your eyes. I try to smile at you in comfort. You need not worry about me. I was going to meet my little Joshua. You wipe away my unchecked tears. My heart pumps faster as I get to give you a proper look. I take in your face; I take in your features. Holy Shit!
Jesus! I cuss over and over in my head. I have never known. All this time and I never knew. Your face looks much like mine. Why had I not noticed this? Everything of yours was mine. You are no other but me. You are the good side of me, the voice of wisdom, and the hopeful part of me. My subconscious has been trying to save me for a long time. Shame and regret fill me. I have wasted my life. I had let Mr. Wrong lid me down this path.
Oh! I had thought I had made him pay when I killed him, but I had not lived past it. I had let my hatred for him consume my soul. My soul had thought to do nothing but go on to a rampage of abusing myself. I continued where he left off.
I had wrapped myself in a cocoon of misery and refused to listen to anyone, to myself. I had refused to let you save me. My heartbeat begins to slow. My pants turn into gasps and slight chokes. Your form begins to fade. My time was near. More tears flow down my face. What had I done? Too many what’s and whys spring fort.
You are now an outline. I look at you and try to voice my thoughts. I’m sorry… I’m sorry…
I wish… I wish… My thoughts fail me and so does my vision.
Darkness Descends.
Whew!
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