For a moment, all was still, and I lay silently, basking in the tranquillity of the morning. Sunlight streamed into the room, diffusing through the curtains and casting a soft glow on the empty pillow beside me. Minute patches of dust danced in front of my face, the light catching them as they spiralled toward the carpet. The sweet, melodic sound of birdsong found its way through the open window to greet my ears, and before the last foggy tendrils of sleep cleared themselves from my head, I was blissfully unaware.
Then the pain hit, crashing through my head like a tidal wave, destroying any delusion of peace. Every nerve was on fire, a roaring, raging inferno that ripped through my skull, leaving me helpless, clutching at the sheets with desperate hands, rivulets of perspiration tracing the contours of my face. I clamped my lips together, forcing down the bile that rose in my throat as the pain built to an agonising crescendo. It was as though the sun was inside my head, blinding my brain, burning me from the inside out. I screwed my eyelids shut and rode out the tsunami, waiting until it had subsided to a dull throb lapping against the back of my eyes before dragging myself out from under the duvet and staggering to the bathroom door. Somehow I made it to the shower, turning the heat down in the hope that the cool water would clear the haze from my mind and soothe my aching body. I bent down to pick up a bar of soap, and the sudden movement was enough to tip me over the edge. Fumbling blindly behind me for the shower knob, I ripped back the curtain, almost tearing it from its rail, and slid across the floor to violently empty my stomach into the toilet. I fought to repress the nausea as I wiped soap from my eyes, gripping the sides of the bowl for support as I heaved again. A choking sob escaped my lips, quickly stifled as I heard the soft click of the door to the spare room shutting and footsteps padding down the stairs. Retching, I bowed my head, hearing the familiar sounds of my wife as she began to prepare breakfast. My wife. Can I call her that anymore? Am I worthy of that?
Stretching out a trembling hand to pull the chain, I let the sound of the rushing cascade of water drown out the cry that wrenched itself from within me. I collapsed backwards into the corner of the bathroom, leaning my head against the wall as a solitary tear carved a path down my cheek.
I can’t do this. I can’t live like this. No, this isn’t living, this is merely existing. I just want to feel something. To feel happy, even angry; anything but this numbing emptiness and the dull ache that smothers all sensation. I used to feel such vibrant passion for my life – my job, my family, the invigorating embrace of fresh coffee in the morning. But somewhere along the line my foot slipped and I lost it all. When the cracks appeared I painted over them, ignoring the walls as they crumbled around me, desperately trying to convince myself that sand was as secure as mortar. And for a while, I managed. But sand washes away, and when the rain came it slipped through my fingers, leaving me cold and lonely, trapped within ruins of my own creation.
I raised my weary head from my hands, pressing salty palms to my eyes in a futile attempt to stem the flow of tears that fell. I dragged myself to my feet, pulling on yesterday’s crumpled clothes and not bothering to wash the last of the shampoo from my hair. I caught a glimpse of my swollen face in the mirror above the sink and turned away, disgusted by the darkness circling my eyes and the mottled shadow along my jaw that I couldn’t muster the energy to remove. I reached for the door handle, clumsy fingers meeting cold metal as my scattered thoughts willed my body to obey my commands. Silently pleading with the spinning walls, I stumbled out onto the landing, squinting into the light.
Having made my way down the stairs, I hesitated in the entrance to the kitchen, pausing to lean my head against the smooth wood of the doorframe and watch Amelia as she made breakfast. I smiled sadly, remembering days when I would join her there and we would laugh together, my wife scolding me as I stole bacon from the frying pan, our daughter giggling at us both from her wheelchair as her hazel eyes sparkled. Amelia was so beautiful then. She still is now, but filtered through a dull, heavy sheen of unkept promises and late nights alone.
As if sensing my presence, Amelia turned, barely able to hide her disappointment at my bedraggled appearance. With quiet resignation in her deep brown eyes she looked away from me, pressing her lips together to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. Wordlessly, without even a glance in my direction, she gestured for me to sit at the table, placing a plate of toast, a glass of water, and four small white tablets in front of me, flinching when her arm brushed mine. Even the though of me causes her pain. I took a tentative mouthful of the toast, wincing as it scraped its way down my throat. Setting it aside, I picked up the two aspirin tablets and gulped them down before warily regarding the remaining pills. I felt Amelia’s stare boring into the top of my head and gingerly reached for the fluoxetine, glancing up at her. She broke the eye contact immediately, flushing red as though ashamed to be caught so obviously distrusting me. I hate myself for what I’m doing to her, but she doesn’t understand. The medication takes away what little control I have left, and I’d rather be broken than with nothing left to break. I slipped the tablets into my pocket where they rattled gently against those from yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that.
I pushed my chair back from the table, and we both baulked at the harsh grinding sound of wood on tile which shattered the thick silence. I stood, crossing to the fridge. I just need some milk. My throat hurts. I need some milk from the fridge to soothe it. In the door of the fridge, that’s where it will be. Just milk. I extended shaking fingers toward the fridge door, feeling Amelia’s judging gaze on me again. As I touched the handle, a hard cold lump formed in my stomach and I felt beads of sweat break out across my forehead, betraying my fear. Just milk. The door swung open and I froze, staring uncomprehendingly at the space where it had been. My eyes flew to Amelia, hoping to find reassurance, but she covered he mouth with her hand and hurried from the room
No.
I need it. The milk.
I was suddenly dizzy. My heart pounded and the kitchen blurred in and out of focus. I could taste it, the flavour of oblivion, sliding down my throat, diminishing my unquenchable thirst. I could feel it, fire in my veins, thick black smoke both clouding and clarifying my mind, enveloping reality and taking me someplace else, somewhere better. I needed it.
I need it.
Seconds later, maybe hours, I didn’t know; time had lost its meaning, I found myself sitting slumped in my car. I shifted into gear, driving with no purpose and no destination in mind, just needing to get away from it all. I drove on autopilot, knuckles white against the steering wheel, lungfuls of air forcing themselves through my nose. My mind was swerving wildly, thoughts careering round the corners, and try as I might I couldn’t apply the brakes. I was stuck in the wrong gear and rapidly losing control.
Realisation hit me like an avalanche. I knew exactly where I was. The peeling paint and faded sign in the window were more familiar to me than my own home. Don’t go in. Keep driving, you fool. The bell tinkled as I opened the door, the sound greeting me like the intoxicating song of Sirens, luring me in. Each step I took echoed round the room, magnified by the glass army that lined the shelves. My last shred of resolve crumbled to dust and I lurched forward, gripping the counter as every cell in my body screamed out for relief. I could hear each beat of my heart reverberating round my chest, increasing in pace and volume until I gasped for air and bent over, trying to alleviate the searing pain in my lungs. The counter blurred before my eyes and blackness crept into the corners of my vision. I felt lightheaded. I felt nauseous. My tongue thick like sandpaper in my parched mouth.
There were words. Someone was talking to me, calling my name, panic in their voice. I straightened abruptly and, throwing my money on the polished wood, I took what I needed and walked out, the Siren’s lullaby ringing in my ears once again.
I laid it on the seat beside me, the poison I had forged my alliance with. I glanced over at my faithful friend, the one that had been there when no one else could be. The one I had always turned to, no matter how hard I tried to find a more trustworthy escape. Not yet. Not here. I turned the key in the ignition, my heart sinking when the engine sputtered and failed to start. This damn car. Amelia will be glad to be rid of it. Two pieces of junk gone together. After five attempts, the car finally started and I pulled out into the flow of traffic, oblivious to the cacophony of car horns and squealing tires that sounded behind me. I drove until the dam was breached and the flood of yearning threatened to overwhelm me, and then I stopped.
I can’t do this. I’m not strong enough. I’m just a broken man, unemployed, with a wife who’s repulsed by the very sight of me and a daughter who I cursed to never walk, never speak, never understand my absence and my cold words and the bitter stench of my breath as I leave her time and time again. Never understand that she iss perfect and the problem is me, that I’m not worthy of loving her and being loved by her. As I am, this wreck tossed carelessly onto the shore, they don’t need me. They’d be better off…
The cool liquid burned like fire, the invigorating venom surging through my veins, making me feel – momentarily – alive. I was drowning in it, unable to stop, choking and gasping for air but needing the alcohol more than oxygen. My stomach turned, vomit splashing onto my shoes but still I tipped the bottle back, drinking it dry and then reaching for the next. I drunk myself into the abyss and washed all thoughts away. My head was empty, so empty, yet for the first time in months I knew exactly what to do.
My foot found its way to the pedal and my hand to the gearstick and suddenly I was moving again, but this time with intention and a destination in mind. The kiss of glass never left my lips as I passed a flash of red, recognising far too late that it was a traffic light. I couldn’t find it in myself to care. Upon reaching the cliff-top pass I slowed to a halt in the middle of the road. I could see it; the long, empty stretch of asphalt laid invitingly before me, and at the end, that sharp corner and the cliff beyond.
Don’t hesitate. Don’t think of them. Or do. Think of Amelia, sobbing in the hospital as bad news crashed over her like waves. Think of how you left then, seeking the company of darkness because light revealed truth, and you couldn’t face it. You tried after that, for a few years at least. But don’t cut yourself any slack; think of the work trips away, you coward, conveniently coinciding with birthdays and anniversaries and doctor’s appointments. Think of how the lies stretched on as the absences continued long after you’d been fired, unable to celebrate first smiles and promotions and healthy, happy babies born to healthy, happy friends for fear of having to face the devastation that would follow. Because feeling something, meant feeling everything. Light only exists in the context of darkness and you have so much of that, a deep, shadowy stain that you smear on everyone you touch. Not anymore.
I emptied the last drops from the bottle down my shirt.
The car jolted forward.
It’s a long road.
I accelerated.
The spot with no barrier is just before the corner.
The car sped up, meandering across the road as I fought to keep it straight.
Hardly anyone comes out this way.
Halfway there.
156 metres…straight down.
Nearly there now.
Breathe in.
I glimpsed it then, a familiar silver brick facing the opposite way to me, two pale faces a flash behind glass. I willed myself to brake, but somewhere between my alcohol drenched brain and the muscles in my foot the message got lost and my body refused to listen. I screamed silently, terror flooding my thoughts and paralysing my body as my sluggish mind slowly became aware of the inevitable. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. Time was dragged reluctantly through treacle. I could only sit there, my hands useless on the wheel as I came ever closer to the car on the other side of the road. At the last second, facing the car almost head on as I teetered on the brink of consciousness, my eyes locked with those of the hazy passenger in the front and I saw the beginnings of a smile as joyful recognition dawned in her eyes.
The world was spinning. Spinning on its axis, turning around the sun, and tumbling over and over until it merged into a single blurred line, punctuated by the flicker of flames and the screams of metal grinding against metal. Piercing, shrieking, agonised screams, and still the world spun. Day revolved into night just as consciousness flowed into something deeper and darker. As glass fell like raindrops, caressing skin and asphalt alike, night-time descended, the blood streaked sunset fading away, silence and stillness rising to take its place. The world kept on spinning, cold and uncaring, moving on and leaving devastation in its wake.
At 7:08 this evening, I opened my eyes.
For a moment, all was still, and I lay silently, basking in the tranquillity of the evening. I was comfortable, cocooned in my bed of twisted metal, moulded perfectly to the contours of my body. A few metres away another bed stood in the soft moonlight, silver in colour and seamlessly flowing into the ground. Suitcases, clothes and toys lay scattered around, a beautiful little bedroom for a mother and daughter. Eyes stared unseeingly at me from this resting place. They looked so at peace, finally free from the shackles of pretence, no longer needing to hide the depths of sorrow and grief. One deep brown set that would never again know betrayal, never again plead and beg through tears, never again sink into that hollow, defeated look they’d held for years. The other set was an intense hazel, set in a small face with a perfectly preserved look of joyful surprise. Never again would they feel the sharp sting of rejection, the pain of unrequited love. Never again would they fill with confusion and fear as their misguided trust was thrown callously back at their innocent owner. Never again.
At 7:10 this evening, I closed my eyes.