I can’t do this anymore . . .
My life means nothing . . .
No one would miss me . . .
I finger a piece of cut glass on the ground beneath the dumpster. It shines every time the lightning strikes.
It seems like it’s calling to me. Offering me a way out. The siren singing to the sailor with dark promises of an eternity of bliss.
I pick it up and test its sharpness against my fingertip. It pierces my skin with barely any pressure.
A way out,the siren sings.
I close my eyes and rest my head against the wall, allowing the large, cold drops from the sky to hit my face like air torpedoes.
I suddenly feel a sense of calm. Of freedom.A way out.
I clutch the large shard in my hand, completely at ease with what I’m about to do next. I welcome it. I accept it.It’s my only way out.
I touch the razor-sharp edge to my wrist. My heart isn’t even beating fast. There is no fear. No question. Just peace.
I breathe in my last conscious breath, smelling and tasting the fresh, clean, wet air. I’ve always loved the smell of the rain. It’s so pure. So cleansing. So serene. That’s what I’m chasing. Serenity. Purity. Absolution.
God forgive me.
I press the tip into my wrist, ready for it all to end, but I freeze when I hear voices traveling beyond the dumpster.
All my fears resurrect. I retreat into that pathetic, helpless creature scared of her own shadow. It doesn’t take more than a second.
Sorry excuse for a human being.I hear his voice. His scathing tone.
I lose control of my emotions and release an imploring sob.Lord, please save me.
There are quick, urgent footsteps, and when the lightning strikes again, I see them right in front of me. A man and a woman and an unconscious person on the ground.
I begin to hyperventilate, praying they didn’t see me. I pretend to be invisible, clutching the shard of glass so tightly in my hand, I feel the blood ooze down my palm.
There is a lot of shuffling and grunting.
“This motherfucker is heavier than he looks,” the man says, and then there is a huge thud in the dumpster beside me.
Oh my God.I cover my mouth in shock. They just dumped a body.Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.
I huddle into the corner tighter, now completely terrified. I just became a witness.
Lightning strikes again, and I get another look at them in the momentary brightness. A slender woman with shoulder-length hair, and a man with wet, dark tendrils stuck to his face.
There is complete silence after the thunder rumbles through the black sky, and I wonder if I’m alone again.
Lord, I hope so.
But I’m wrong.
A light shines on my face, blinding me, and I hear him say, “Well, look what we’ve got here. A stray.”
I immediately freak out, pleading for my life. “I swear I didn’t see anything . . . I won’t say a word . . .”
Funny how tables can turn. Not five minutes before, I was ready and willing to take my own life, but I beg for it when it’s in the hands of someone else.
