Читать книгу STILL STANDING - M.G. Crisci - Страница 3

“In the end, one needs more courage to live than to kill themselves.”

― Albert Camus

2017…

How the hell did I come to be in this place?

Demons riddled my inner self. Hate, anger, bitterness, and sadness attacked relentlessly and randomly. Sledgehammers rocked my being. How to make this madness stop? I just wanted to be normal again, but I knew there was no route back to normal.

Circumstances had changed me forever. I knew I couldn’t be fixed; I’d been broken too long. I was abandoned and rejected. All that remained were randomly shaped, disjointed pieces of my former self, unable, or perhaps unwilling, to form any coherence. Any logic I once possessed had been crushed beneath a mass of terribly poor choices.

I was no longer in control. I felt hollow, as though my insides had been carved. My body robotic, no longer connected to my soul, had driven me to this desolate seashore. I wanted my inner demons to be punished. No, I wanted me to be punished! The ominous dark clouds would be my final canvas.

I dragged myself toward the angry white foam. A bright full moon reflected the haggard shell of the dreadful creature I no longer recognized. I felt the sea spray whip hair strands across my face, lashing my cheeks. Again, and again.

Oddly, my leg started to vibrate. A forgotten mobile phone buried deep in my pocket began to call silently; it added to the madness of the moment. Instinctively, I knew it was John. I longed to say my final goodbye, but I knew he’d talk me out of killing myself. When things were right, he had that kind of calming presence. This time, I would have none of it. I howled wantonly, as I continued towards my destiny.

I closed my eyes and leaned forward, preparing to let go. I could feel the power of the waves smashing against the craggy cliffs. I would take one final deep breath before tumbling into the briny deep, and eternal damnation. I felt it was all I deserved.

My phone vibrated again. I hesitated for what seemed like an eternity. Why should I answer? Reluctantly, I pulled it from my pocket. It was another voicemail from John. I was torn; one side of me wanted to finish what I had begun; the other wanted to hear his voice one final time. After all we had done to each other, I still loved him.

I pressed the phone against my damp hair, closed my eyes, and listened as I entered the sea. “Vicki, please come home. We can work things out. I love you. Emily and Matthew need their mother. You are their true North…and mine.”

Tears cascaded down my cheeks. I’d thrown my life away and I was full of regret, but I couldn’t turn back the clock and erase it.

I stared into the dark abyss as the waves grew ever more violent. I wondered. Was redemption even remotely possible? A wave smacked me in the face. It was my answer. I began the struggle back to shore.

A few feet from the safety of dry land, my legs collapsed; I crashed to my knees. The angry waves rumbled, but I no longer wanted to die. I dug my hands into the sand and hung on for dear life. My willowy body shivered in the foreboding darkness. I could taste the wet sand fill my mouth.

Fate, or something, intervened; the waves began to recede. I gathered myself, clawed and dragged my physically and emotionally spent body to the safety of the promenade. I lay motionless as the moon reappeared from behind the clouds. My heart was pounding a thousand beats a minute.

I promised myself, “Never again.” I lied.