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The Other Side of Suicide |
| Written by Heena N. | |
| Monday, 08 October 2007 | |
The blades of the fan whipped on at a miserable speed. Chunks of hot air touched her sweaty face… It did nothing to ease her discomfort. As she lay there breathless and overwhelmed, she stared blankly at the alabaster white ceiling. It matched her ghostly pale face.
Her vision blurred. The tears were forming again. She blinked. Once. Twice. A tear rolled down her dirty cheek but she didn’t wipe it off. She only blinked trying to stop more from coming. Tears were not good. They would make her change her mind. But she wouldn’t. She’d go through with it… tonight she would kill herself.
Her hand slid over the dusty side table… searching. The glass of wine tipped over smashing on the floor with a clink. Her dirty white carpet looked artistic, expressionist with the blotch of trickling red wine. Surreal…
It didn’t matter; she was headed straight for the bottle, anyway. Damn it. It was out of reach. She would have to sit up… make an effort to get her hands on it. She sat up…
The blood rushed to her head making her nauseous. She quickly doubled over sideways and felt her hot nasty anger find an expression… a way out. She threw up with vigor.
The putrid smell stung her nose. The taste burnt her throat. She needed the liquor more than anything now. The world spun faster… she felt light headed… the bottle kept draining swig by swig, until there was nothing left in it. Not even a drop. She let if fall to the floor… and roll away, sliding back into her previous position. The ceiling was blank… the gyrating movement of the fan hypnotic. Her thoughts drifted away…
She had big plans. It was never supposed to be over like this. There was going to be a perfect life, everything that dreams are made of. But life had deceived her... over and over again. Her hatred for life had been renewed… by betrayal… by pain… by the wounds that were inflicted on her.
She’d live to be a hundred… if not for this… but unlike everyone else she didn’t see the reason for that to be a joyous occasion. Life just wasn’t worthy of get dragged through this way, beaten and sore… continuously fighting your battles. She longed for peace. And she would get it. It would all be over now. Before anything could come to save her… before anything could stop her.
Her hand traced the dresser for the second time that night… She felt the thin cold metal beneath her thin fingers. She pinched the blade in her fingers and brought it close to her wrist.
She smiled… there was almost a manic simplicity to how she was going to do it. One gash… a little pain and then a blank oblivion. Peaceful for her… hurtful for everyone else who witnessed it, after.
She played with the blade… running the edge between her fingers over and over again… wondering how much she’d have to press it to make the cut permanent… fatal.
Back and forth… she slid it across her forefinger. Everything was done… any moment now. Something stopped her… deep down she knew she wanted someone to come and save her… someone to tell her that she was important, that her life needn’t end this way.
But she shook her head at her own naivety… no one was going to come. No one ever had. No one ever would. She would fade away without a moment’s anguish. No one would come to miraculously save her. She had to do it now. She could hear her heart beat.
Knock, knock. The knock was not loud yet the sudden break of silence startled her… She fumbled and the blade fell out of her hand.
“Sophie? Are you in there?” a quiet voice sounded from the other side of the door. She sat up in her bed… was it possible that it was him?
“Sophie?” Yes… it was him. He had come back… come back to save her. Maybe this was the sign… She didn’t know what to make of it. He cared about her, after all… “I’m coming in” he said… and she could see the knob of the door twisting as he stepped inside… She couldn’t stop herself from crying. Silent tears greeted his presence as she sat there with her mouth fallen open… filled with too much emotion to say a word. How was this possible? She didn’t move, but her eyes stared at him with intensity… questioning.
He stepped closer to her bed with a kind smile… and sat down beside her. She tried getting up but he urged her to stay where she was… pulled a blanket over her… and made her pillows for her.
She shook her head… and pushed his hand away. She hated him… she hated herself for allowing him to be near her. But she felt the guilty pleasure of being taken care of… she realized that she didn’t really want to be alone. He picked up a pillow fallen down.
She fell back on her bed her hands to her sides, too weak to say anything, just staring at his face… searching in his eyes. It was a little too late that she saw the familiar flash of intensity in his eyes… a flash of malice… followed by a sudden movement.
The pillow on her face muffled her screams… She flailed her arms wildly in attempts to get it off. She kicked… and slapped and tried to force it away from her… But the pillow kept pressing down hard… Her breath was cut off now…
Her life did not flash before her eyes… just red spots that seemed to be making everything unclear… red spots… blankness… She kicked, she pushed. But the wine had made her weak… and her attempts to save herself were too feeble.
To her surprise, she kept fighting. Ten minutes back… death seemed like the only escape. Now, it seemed that she wanted nothing more than to escape this death… She felt the energy drain out of her hands… seconds ticked by and the wind was being knocked out of her. Her hands felt limp on the bed… She was going to die… and there was nothing to be done. Her final wish was going to be granted. Too bad…
Something cold hit the tip of her forefinger… She was surprised that she could still feel the sensation… Her fingers registered what it was and she tried to push herself downwards to get a better grip on it.
But her assailant was strong. He pinned her down with force… surprised at her limp struggling body. He would have expected her to give up sooner… she would have too.
She didn’t realize when she actually did it… the blade slid in her grip. She used her other hand to hold his collar and swung her hand helplessly with the hope of injuring him… She didn’t know what she was doing, her mind was only determined, concentrating hard to get away from this sudden death… from this blankness that seemed to creep in more and more.
A gasp sounded… the pillow stopped smothering her face. The grip of the monster was lost. She heard a choking, gurgling sound… and then a loud welcome thud. She scampered from her bed… throwing the blood soaked pillow as far away from her face as possible… air rushing into her lungs causing her to black out for a second and lose her footing. She fell down beside him.
He lay struggling like a fish pulled out of water… She was shocked at the damage she had done… He would be dead within minutes. Too bad for him, if he had controlled his rage for ten more minutes… she would’ve done his dirty work for him. But that was not how it was supposed to be. Life always made its own plans.
As she ran out of the room crying… her senses suddenly became clear… In a weird way he had saved her from her own horrific end.
She was glad to be breathing still. She was glad she had fought back. And she realized that after all life was not ready to let go of her. And neither was she ready to let go of it…
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| Last Updated ( Sunday, 04 May 2008 ) |
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