Love and Assassins
Chapter Two – Part Three
I hobbled over to the refrigerator, opening the freezer door and peering inside. My neck was cramping bad and the little man with the head-hammer was back. Inside the freezer a tray of ice sat, half full of cubes, probably from the tenant before me. I broke out several pieces, found an old t-shirt and wrapped them up in it.
Placing the makeshift ice pack on my shoulder I stared around the room, my gaze finally falling on the toaster.
A million thoughts ran through my mind then, all the countless ways I could fuck that one up, cause myself excruciating pain, and somehow, somehow… Still not die. No. Electrocution was out.
I laid down on the couch, closing my eyes and vaguely wondering why I hadn’t used the couch to stand on. Oh well. I stretched out across the cushions, thinking. I was doing something wrong here. I had to be, how else could I not be dead yet?
I grabbed the note pad, pulling my knees up and looking it over with a critical eye. I had the purpose. I had the ways. I had the tools. But… And then I saw it. I hadn’t worked out how a suicidee would be. I mean what kind of attitude would they have? I hadn’t even written a note! They all wrote notes, right?
I tapped the pencil on my lips, thinking. Okay. I scribbled out, “attitude of a suicidee:” and then below this: “depressed.”
Yeah. And… “Despondent,” and, “angry at the world.” Huh. Do suicidees like anyone? Probably not or they would just go be with that person. Okay, “no friends.” And… Yeah. I had it now. I got up and went to the mirror, looking at myself.
Well, I already looked like shit. My face was paler than before and a nice bump was busy swelling on my forehead. But no, I needed the attitude of a suicidee.
Okay. Despondent. I relaxed all the muscles in my face. Good. Zombie-like, but good. And depressed. I lowered the edges of my mouth. Good. Angry at the world. But wait, no, it would be angry at the world but not showing it. I lifted my upper lip the slightest bit. Yeah, that was it. I looked horrible. And kind of weird. God, this was depressing.
I went back to my couch, sitting down. This wasn’t working. Hmm. There was one other way though I didn’t know if I had the nerve to try it. Maybe if I got really drunk. Yeah. But I’d have to be up there already or I’d probably forget what I was doing.
I wrapped my robe around me and tied it. Grabbing the remaining five beers I left my apartment. The building was nine stories tall. There would be no way I would make it through this alive.
I climbed the stairs trying to get myself worked up into a good rage against the world, thinking of all the horrible things anyone had ever done to me, the lies and betrayals, failures. Life was rotten.
By the time I reached the top I was out of breath but I was ready. I hated everyone. They all sucked. No one had ever been nice to me in my whole life. And if they had I was trying not to remember it as much as I could.
I pushed open the rusty metal door at the top of the stairs and stepped out into a chilly wind. It was early evening now and the sun was already down. Below me I could hear the sounds of rush hour traffic, something that would continue for another couple of hours.
I stepped to the side and looked over.
Oh God, can’t do that again, I thought, quickly pulling myself back.
I took a deep breath. Okay. I can do this. But I can’t do it there. Too many people around to gawk at the crazy man in the bathrobe. Other side. There was an alley there, no one would see. Probably wouldn’t find me till next week.
I walked across the gravel strewn roof to the other side, careful not to look over. Okay, this was it. I climbed up onto the edge using the ladder to the fire escape to brace myself. Very slowly I sat down, my legs dangling over the side, and kicked my slippers off, watching them fall and bounce on the pavement below.
I opened the first beer, chugging it down and dropping the can over side, hearing a dull clang a moment later as it hit the side of a dumpster. Yeah, sue me for that.
I opened the next beer. Drank it. Next. Drank it. Next. By the time I was half way through the fifth one I needed to pee so badly I could barely hold it. I fumbled for the ladder beside me, pulling myself up and nearly falling several times before getting my footing. Yeah, I was drunk enough. Now I just needed to pee and then I could get it over with.
I fumbled at my bathrobe, trying to get it out of the way and hold onto the ladder at the same time. A chill wind swept up, blowing the flaps of my bathrobe up and to the side. I clutched onto the ladder, staggering, trying to hold it in. Then I slipped sideways, losing my grip on the fire escape ladder. I was falling.
Everything slowed down then, the chill wind becoming a gentle breeze, the sounds of traffic dying away to a faint background hum. This was it. This was really it.
A thousand thoughts flashes through my mind, memories good and bad, dreams, goals. And through it all was the feeling of the soft breeze and the weightlessness. I’d never felt so free in my entire life.
A moment later I landed on the fire escape one floor down. On the bright side I didn’t need to go pee anymore.
This is continued in: Love and Assassins, Chapter Three