“Last week… I tried heroine. It was just once and it didn’t work as well as I had hoped. I certainly don’t feel any cravings for it.”
“Marcus, are you crazy?! After everything you’ve been told about drugs and after all the times we’ve warned you about their dangers, you would resort to using heroine?” my dad exclaimed, more upset and desperate than angry at me.
“Well it’s not like my life can get any worse!” I yelled before getting up and storming out of the office.
In the weeks that passed, my parents tried to limit the amount of pills I took, but it was just as difficult for them as it was for me, because just by looking at me, they could tell how badly I needed them. As expected, my pain increased, as well as the intensity and frequency of my seizures. I stopped sleeping, unable to ever calm myself down enough to relax. As January moved onto February, I finally gave in and quit taking my meds, allowing my body to work the chemicals out of my system and lose its developed immunity.
I spent that hellish week at home in bed, howling at the top of my lungs while the seconds ticked by with sadistic slowness. Without anything to even muffle the full stimulation of all my pain receptors, my body was essentially ripping itself apart from the inside out. I couldn’t even tell when I was having a seizure or not, it just all felt the same. Every second, I felt like my flesh was being shredded away by flaming chainsaws while twin lobotomies were performed on my brain with jagged icicles.
My parents had to stay home from work to take care of me, as I could not go to the bathroom or feed myself. They could do nothing but sit by my bed and listen to me scream, always trying to think of a way to help me. They tried to endure it, unable to ask my little brother or older sister to look after me without feeling any more guilt than they already were. For days, my sense of time blurred. I was unable to tell night from day, hot from cold, or dream from reality. When I was awake, I often hallucinated, and the only times I ever slept were when I finally managed to pass out from pain or exhaustion, and even then, it never lasted longer than an hour.
Lying in bed, in the throws of a seizure, I felt a deep thud in my chest, as if my heart had just slammed against my ribcage. My sweat became clammy and I began to lose my control over my limbs. Barely able to breathe from the pain already surging through me, I felt a second powerful thud in my chest. I could sense my pulse, hear it pounding in my ears, and feel the loss of rhythm. My heart was struggling to continue beating, unable to bear the strain any longer. Neither of my parents was in the room and I couldn’t call them, my lungs refusing to work.
‘Is this it? Will I finally die?’
My heart at last stopped, but instead of closing my eyes, I continued to stare upwards, watching as the ceiling of my bedroom vanished to reveal the eye of God, spinning overhead. My bed disappeared beneath me, my room following suit to reveal the vastness of space. I was so close to the celestial nexus that I could almost see the individual tongues of flame in the typhoon surrounding the black hole pupil. The star occupied the entire horizon, as if slicing reality in half so that one side was the dark cosmos and the other side was the sea of nuclear fire. I was about a kilometer from the surface of the black hole, which had shrunk down to the size of a ten-story building.
‘So close… I’m so close…’ I thought, desperately reaching out to be accepted into desired oblivion.
The clothes I had been wearing were vaporized from my body, signaling my last ties to the real world being severed. But answering my silent call, the girl from my hallucinations appeared, flying out of the black hole towards me, arms outstretched, tears in her eyes. She slowed as she reached me, coming to a stop before gently embracing me and holding me close with our unclothed bodies pressed together.
“Marcus, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I know how much you’re suffering, I know how much pain you are in,” she whimpered, crying with her face buried in the side of my neck.
She then looked up at me, her blue eyes trembling. “But it is not your time to die yet, just a little longer. Please, darling, hold on just a little longer, for me.”
I tried to say her name, but once again, only the indecipherable noise was heard. In reply, the girl smiled and wiped away her tears. Wrapping her arms around my neck, she leaned forward and kissed me. “I love you, Marcus. With all my heart, I love you. This is the most selfish thing I will ever ask of you, but please, live on! Please, you must wait just a little longer! Go home, Marcus, it is time for you to go home. You still have to name me, remember?”
She then separated from me, pushing me away. The moment her hands touched my chest, a single powerful heartbeat rocked me to my core, causing cracks of light to flash across my vision as if reality itself was fracturing. I reached out to her, trying to call her name while a second beat of my heart sent more cracks through the fabric of space.
The girl floated back towards the eye of God, tears rolling down her cheeks but a smile on her face. “I love you,” she murmured.
A third beat of my heart broke the cosmic vision and I woke up, back in my bed with my arm raised, still trying to make contact with the angel. My heart had resumed beating, albeit slowly. While it surely would not last, my pain had all but disappeared. Just as she had, I too began to cry, letting my arm drop and cover my face.
“I love you too.”
Eventually, I was able to resume taking my medication, and it was hard for me not to swallow every pill I could get my hands on. I’ll admit, they certainly took the edge off, but I had already made up my mind. I was done. I didn’t know why the girl wanted me to wait, but I couldn’t do it anymore. I just couldn’t handle living any longer.
It was February vacation and a winter storm was howling outside. The blizzard had been going for almost three days and power had quickly been lost. The house was dark, the only light coming from the eerie gray aura passing through the windows. My family had gone to a friend’s house to enjoy their electricity and running water, while I had chosen to stay home. I wanted to be alone for this. I sat at my desk in my room with a glass of water and a pile of pills next to me. They were sleeping pills, painkillers, and everything else I had. I was slowly writing a suicide note, trying to use my best penmanship. I included the instructions for my funeral and how I wanted to be buried. I finally put down the pen. My hands were almost always trembling, but now they were finally steady.
“Goodbye pain,” I said before I took a handful of pills and swallowed them, followed by the remainders.
I then moved over to my bed and lied down, staring at the ceiling and contemplated my life while I waited for death to come. It really had been a worthless life. Maybe I would finally learn what relief was in dying, but considering my luck, I would probably just end up vomiting the pills and surviving. In time, I could feel my body becoming heavier, my pain dulling, and my mind slowing down. I was almost there, so close. Closing my eyes, I whispered one final goodbye and apology.