You're Next
A Short Story Collection
Zia Black
Copyright
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2012 - Zahra Brown (pseudonym: 'Zia Black')
All rights reserved.
License Notes
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold, or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and you did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to smashwords.com and purchase your own copy.
Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Zia Black, www.ziablack.com, 2012.
Cover Image: Copyright iStockphoto.com/timoph (business name: 2updesign)
CONTENTS
****
It didn’t rain at my funeral. Sorry. It won’t rain at my funeral.
It’ll be sunny.
The service will be brief: my favourite song, my favourite flower, and my favourite people. Start at nine o’clock and end before ten. I’ll be six feet under by eleven.
How do I know? Because I was there.
I am there.
I woke up feeling pretty crap after the nightmare ruined my sleep. Usually an hour on the treadmill would make me feel better, but this time even my daily run didn’t help. In fact, things got worse. Now there was a sharp pain in my calf.
"What the hell?" I cried, rubbing my leg. "Why can’t things ever go right?"
My year had gone pretty badly. My ex, Claire, left me for another man. Then my best friend betrayed me. They kept the affair a secret until she got pregnant. Knowing my luck, she would’ve had twins. One for her and one for him.
Thank God I’ll never see their spawn.
Anyway, I thought maybe I’d just sprained my leg. Too impatient to wait for a doctor’s appointment - I needed help now - I decided to self-diagnose. I know, I know. Not the best idea, but the pain couldn’t be that serious...
A quick search online didn't help. There were countless medical websites suggesting so many causes. Maybe I’d over-exercised? Was it a blood clot? There’s cancer in my family! The search continued, and the pain intensified.
"Damn it!" I shouted, thumping the keyboard with my fist. "How can I drive a limo when I can’t even walk?"
I just need more rest, I thought.
After a quick call to my boss, who, as usual, was a prick, I limped back to bed. With my leg propped up on the bedpost, I closed my eyes and fell asleep.
I wish I hadn’t.
Déjà vu set in. I refused to move until the nightmare was over. I wasn’t going through it again, and nothing could force me to. I would sit at the back of church and wait. Eventually I’d wake up. Eventually.
It was easier said than done.
I blinked and suddenly found myself standing by my mother and older brothers, Fredrick and Matthew. She kept crying, "No, not the baby!" Fredrick wiped away her tears and dabbed her pale cheeks with a handkerchief. Fredrick was crying too. Fredrick, the toughest nut that wouldn’t crack, was in tears. The same Fredrick who helped my mother when the sperm donor left, was crying. He sat consoling Mum, his eyes staring through me at me. For once, I had the urge to protect him, but there was nothing I could do but wake up.
Poor Fredrick, I thought. Don’t worry, mate. This isn’t real. You and Mum will be all right.
I closed my eyes and willed myself to wake up.
Then we were at the graveyard. Everyone gathered behind my family, and the priest said a prayer before stepping aside. My mother placed her hands on the coffin and whispered, "Goodbye" before Fredrick did the same. A moment later, I watched my coffin disappear underground.
"Time to wake up," I said, watching my loved ones walk away. "I hope my leg feels better."
I waited. And waited. And waited.
"Wake up, man," I snapped. "For goodness sake, I’ll be late for the afternoon shift!"
When I stopped pacing up and down, I realised the scene had changed. Doves had gathered in the trees overhead, none of them moving. Even my loved ones had turned back to stare at me, all watching in silence. The wind had died and the rising sun had frozen between morning and midday.
"They can see me?" I gasped. "They never saw me last time I had this dream."
Everyone slowly raised their hand and pointed in my direction. The birds swooped overhead and landed on the tombstone. The wind swirled around me, forcing me closer to my grave. Then the sun blinded me, so I crouched down and hid behind my tombstone.
"This didn’t happen last time," I said. "I'd woken up by now!"
I tried to stand, but the sun’s rays burned into my flesh. The wind bashed me back down. The birds squawked as they swooped overhead, their beaks clipping my head. Sore, bruised, and bloody, I lay on my grave and prayed to God.
"If you’re listening, please help me...Please!"
The sun shone brighter, the wind blew harder, and the birds closed in.
"That’s your idea of help?" I shouted. "That’s why I’m an Atheist!"
I considered making a run for it, but my limbs were aching from the abusive wind. Besides, how can you escape from the sun during the day? How can you evade the wind in an open graveyard? How can you run from winged terrors? I had to wait it out.
The birds waddled closer, their beaks at the ready. The sun rose higher until its rays reached over the tombstone and singed my feet. The wind held me down and invisible hands forced me to look at the tombstone.
"Let me go, please," I begged. "What do you want from me?"
The force turned my head slightly to the right, where my eyes settled on my time of death: 10th October 2010 10:00PM.
The phone rang.
I woke up.
"Where are you?" my boss barked. "You wanna get fired?"
"No, sir," I said through clenched teeth.
"You. Here. Thirty minutes."
"But-"
"You. Not here. Thirty minutes. Unemployed."
"See you in thirty," I said.
After he’d hung up, I slammed the phone down and threw it across the room. Excruciating pain shot through my calf and I doubled over in agony. With time ticking away, I quickly limped into the kitchen to make an ice pack.
"Once I ace that job interview, I’ll tell him where to shove it!"
I sat at the table and wrapped ice cubes in a kitchen towel.
"Who the hell does he think he is? He doesn't own me!"
I steadied my leg and prepared for pain.
"He’ll regret ever treating me like sh-"
A tattoo. I dropped the ice pack and leaned in closer. I rubbed my eyes and looked again. I moved my leg closer to the light and looked again.
"Last night I got a friggin' tattoo," I cried. "Fredrick’ll go mad when he sees this!"
My phone bleeped as the clock struck three. I thought I had twenty-five minutes left. Now I know I had seven hours.
The longer I stared at the tattoo, the darker it got. First it was a faint grey, but within a minute it was charcoal black. I tried to read the cursive digits, but the tattoo was back-to-front. I limped out to the full length mirror in the corridor to read it properly.
"It’s a date and time?" I huffed. "How boring! Matthew got a..."
I leaned closer to my reflection and read the date aloud.
"10/10/10 10pm?"
The tombstone flashed in my memory.
I turned to the calendar on the fridge and confirmed today’s date.
"It’s just a coincidence," I muttered, hobbling away to the bathroom.
I took a quick shower and put on my suit for work. The tombstone was still etched into my memory. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t block it out. I tried to stay calm, but inside my heart pounded so loud I could hear my pulse.
"It’s just a stupid dream," I said. "Just get to work before that bum fires you."
I grabbed my briefcase and headed for the front door. I looked back one last time before turning the door handle.
It broke off.
"You’ve got be kiddin’ me!" I slammed the briefcase onto the floor. "Man, today just sucks!"
I slotted the handle back into place and turned it, but the door stayed shut. I banged on the door, as if that’d somehow help, but, obviously, it didn’t. I shouted through the keyhole to my neighbours, but no one came out.
"Marsha must be collecting the kids from school," I said. "I bet Druggie Derek’s out cold after getting high on his own supply."
The windows, I thought. I've got to climb down.
The bedroom and living room windows' ledges weren't an option. They were too rotten because the cheapest landlord in Britain wouldn’t replace them.
"It’s not in your contract," the moron said. "Pay up or shut up!"
I could afford to shut up.
I couldn't try the bathroom because...
"There's one place left."
I returned to the kitchen and tugged at the window. I got a knife and tried to wedge the window open. Soon I only had fifteen minutes left. To reach the office in time, I had to leave now!
I grabbed my mobile phone and called Fredrick.
"Freddy, you’ve gotta help me!"
"I tried to."
"What? Anyway, get over here and let me out."
"You’re locked in?"
"Duh!"
"...Are you in the living room?"
"No, the kitchen."
"Oh...Have you taken anything?"
"I might take some paracetamol for my leg. It’s killing me!"
"Why? Did you hurt yourself again?"
"It’s different this time," I said quickly. "I got a tattoo..."
"Pardon?"
I mumbled it again.
"Christ, what the hell were you thinking?" I tuned out until he'd finished his lecture. "I’m coming over!"
I looked at the clock.
"Make it five or my boss’ll kill me!"
"Jack, this isn't the first time...Are you trying to get fired?"
"No."
"Fine. I’ll be there in five."
I waited. Five minutes later, my mobile rang. It was Matthew.
I put the phone on vibrate and turned on the TV.
The mobile vibrated. It was him again.
I turned the phone off.
Fredrick put his finger to his lips and the twin girls fell silent. He pressed the doorbell button twice.
"Hey, Jack, it’s me!" Fredrick said, knocking on the door.
"I’m here too!" Alice squealed.
"And me!" Harriet cried.
"Ladies, thank you for ruining the surprise..."
Fredrick took his mobile from his coat pocket and dialled Jack’s number, but it went straight to the answering machine. He left a message and shoved the phone into his pocket.
"Daddy, is Uncle Jack sick again?" Harriet whispered.
"Sweetheart, I’m sure he’s fine."
"Are we still staying over?" Alice asked.
"If he lets us in."
The girls banged on the door and called Jack’s name. They all pressed their ears against the door and listened. Fredrick could hear the local news on the television.
"He always falls asleep with that TV on!" Fredrick rolled his eyes. "Sorry, girls. We’ll have your sleepover tomorrow instead."
"Aw, it’s not fair," Harriet said, stomping her foot. "You promised we'd stay over Friday after school."
"Yeah, Daddy, you promised!" Alice crossed her arms and turned away. "I’m staying!"
"Me too!" Harriet said, copying her sister's stance.
"Jack, help me out here!" Fredrick peered through the keyhole, and saw his brother pacing up and down inside. "Open the door!"
"It’s too late now," Jack shouted. "You said you’d come in five minutes!"
"No, I didn’t. I said I’d get here ASAP." Fredrick tried the door handle. "Come on, Jack. The girls want to see you."
"I’ve lost my job now," Jack said. "I’ll lose this flat next."
"Nonsense, come stay with us!" Fredrick turned to the twins. "Who wants Uncle Jack to come and live with us?"
The girls squealed and skipped around the corridor.
"See, Jack? We’ve got-"
"Leave me alone!" Jack shouted. "Get lost!"
Fredrick checked under the doormat.
"The key’s not there," Jack said calmly. "You can’t just barge in whenever you feel like it."
"You mean Matthew can’t ba-"
"Don’t mention that moron again," Jack spat. "Just take the girls and leave!"
Fredrick looked through the keyhole again, his little brother glaring back.
"I’ll drop the twins off home and come back when you’ve cooled off...Will you let me in?"
Jack nodded slowly.
"I've never let you down, have I?"
Jack shook his head.
"And I'm not starting now," Fredrick said. "I’ll stay over tonight. We’ll have a lads’ night in."
Jack disappeared into the kitchen and closed the door.
The clock on the kitchen wall drew me closer. I watched the hands spinning as the minutes flew by. My last year whizzed through my mind. I’d hoped things would get better, but losing my job showed the worst was yet to come. I couldn’t afford my flat anymore. I couldn’t afford my car anymore. Aged thirty-one, I couldn’t take care of myself anymore.
The hands on the clock moved faster.
"That’s odd," I said. "I just changed the batteries last month!"
I changed the batteries again, just in case, and watched the time. The hands moved faster, so fast an hour went by within minutes. Slowly the time edged closer to ten o’clock.
"It was just a dream, you big baby," I told myself. "Nothing will happen at ten. Nothing!"
I placed the clock face down on the table, but the clock’s tick tocking grew louder. I removed the batteries, but time ticked on. I covered my ears and backed away from table, but the noise followed me. It stalked me around the flat and battered my eardrums when I reached the front door. Back in the kitchen, the noise eased off slightly.
"It’s a sign," I thought. "It’s like my dream. Something’s happening!"
I almost screamed. The clock was standing upright, the hands ticking past five o’clock. I smacked the clock down, but it rose from the table and pulled me closer. My eyes were glued to the hands drifting past half past five.
"Just calm down," I ordered. "Nothing’s gonna happen at ten. Just wait and see."
The clock teased me by jumping forwards to seven o’clock.
"Stop it!" I cried, heading for the cutlery drawer behind me. "Take this!"
I brought the butcher knife down onto the clock, but the blade bounced off and flew through the air, almost beheading me. Luckily I’d ducked, so the blade only sliced off a lock of hair. Still, I could have died.
"But I didn’t," I said, smiling at the clock. "I won’t let you win!"
It was clear that this clock was evil. Or I was just going crazy. Either way, I had to protect myself. The flat was packed with dangerous things, but if I stored them away until ten o’clock passed, I would live. No deadly forces or nightmares could get me without a weapon.
A quick look around revealed everything deadly. The knives and forks were obvious, so I removed them first. For my own protection, I kept one knife in my trouser pocket. If anything came, I would be ready. I moved everything dangerous into the bathroom, where it would be out of the way. The cutlery was followed by cleaning liquids and matchboxes. I disconnected the gas. Fabrics were also culled. Bed linen, clothes, and shoelaces joined the cutlery in the bathtub. When the tub overflowed, soon the toilet and sink were swamped by potential weaponry.
Finally the flat was safe.
In the bedroom, I sat down at my laptop and continued my job search. I needed another job fast before my landlord kicked me out. The driving gig had paid an average wage, so matching that salary wouldn’t be too hard.
"This shouldn’t be difficult," I said. "There’s lots of work out there!"
My job search was going well until I glanced at the time in the corner of the screen. It was eight o’clock. Every time I changed the time manually, the program set it back. I turned the clock off, it turned itself back on. I stuck paper over that corner of the monitor, but the digits burned through until nine o’clock was imminent.
I printed off some photographs and shutdown the computer.
"I'll get some rest," I said. "If I wake up tomorrow, I’ll clear out the bathroom."
I lay down and closed my eyes, wondering whether the nightmare would return. I even considered that this was a nightmare, but the fear and pain felt too real. Still, there was the chance, right?
I’m not afraid, I lied to myself. I’m ready.
I rolled over and accidentally knocked one of my pictures off the bed. When I reached down to get it, I spotted brilliant white eyes lurking by the dirty clothes basket. I scrambled away as the monster disappeared under the bed, soon followed by its allies.
"Get out," I cried, thumping the bed. "Leave me alone!"
I heard the intruders scurrying around. When they sprung from the other side of the bed, I dashed out of the room and slammed the door shut. They clawed at the door until the wooden frame splintered apart. First their noses poked through, nostrils flaring in my direction, and then they stopped, their eyes on me. I shut my eyes.
I opened my eyes and the monsters had gone. I crept over and peered through the keyhole. Hundreds of the creatures were devouring the bed, wardrobe, and my treasured possessions. When the intruders had eaten my life, they lay together, their stomachs bulging as if they would explode. Even then, their eyes were watching the doorway.
"I could set them alight," I whispered. "No, that’ll hurt too much."
The lights went out.
I flicked the switch and the bulbs blew, broken glass raining down on me. I brushed the shards off my head and rushed into the living room. The TV was still on, but I couldn’t focus on the nine o’clock news. I didn’t care which celebrity had died. I didn’t care which country was going to war. I didn’t care about tomorrow’s weather forecast. None of it mattered anymore.
"God, you know the Atheist thing was a joke, right?" I knelt down and clasped my hands. "I really meant Agnostic. If this nightmare is supposed to convert me, to show me you exist, you win! I’ll be at church this Sunday, I swear! I’ll sit right at the front and sing every word to every hymn. Please, if this is another nightmare, let me wake up now..."
A hand rested on my shoulder. I hoped it was God, but I knew it wasn’t.
There’s nothing there, I thought. Your mind’s playing tricks on you.
I turned round and screamed as the black figure loomed overhead. Its eyes pulled me to my feet and held me to the spot. I felt its rough hands squeezing my head tighter and tighter. Then it turned my head slowly until I was facing Claire’s self-portrait on the wall.
"Let me go," I shouted, tearing the hands off me.
I dashed to the kitchen, closed the door, and wedged a chair under the door handle. The stranger turned the handle and then knocked. The clock on the table drifted closer to ten.
"I’m calling the police," I shouted, knowing my mobile was still on the sofa. "Get out or get arrested!"
"Let me in," the stranger whispered. "Jackson, open the door."
"How’d you know my name?" I pressed my ear against the door, knife in hand. "Answer me!"
"We know each other well." I shook my head. "We have been together since you fell in love with Claire."
"Do not let me in," the stranger said, with a softer tone. "Time will pass."
"That is what she said," the harsher voice hissed. "Then she tore you apart. Don’t hurt yourself, she said. She hurt you instead."
I pictured the photos on the bed, being devoured by vermin. I couldn’t print off more copies. They were gone forever. Maybe I would be too, soon.
"Keep the door locked," the soft voice begged. "It is almost ten o'clock! You can do this, Jackson!"
"You think it is really that easy?" the gruff voice asked. "There will be other tattoos and other days. In time, there might be 366 tattoos all over your body."
"You can fight this every day," the soft voice said. "Believe in yourself. Just get past ten."
"Every day?" I asked. "I’ll be haunted every single day? Won’t I ever get peace?"
"Of course," the gruff voice said. "Let me show you the way."
I opened the door. No one was there.
The glass on the floor cracked into tinier pieces, the monsters battered the bedroom door, and the TV’s racket drowned out my thoughts. Claire’s picture slipped off the wall and smashed onto the coffee table, a tear now splitting her apart.
"Show me peace!" Instead, the clock on the DVD player showed ten minutes to ten. "Oh God! What’s coming?"
A thick mist consumed my vision and smothered my hearing. I bent down and tried to feel my way out from the madness, but I’d lost my sense of touch. I screamed out yet heard nothing but my terrified thoughts. Now I could taste blood.
"I can stop this."
Fredrick clutched the steering wheel so hard it hurt. He wondered whether this was the right thing to do, but he had to do something. He couldn’t stand by and watch his youngest brother fall apart over Claire...again. She’d moved on. Jack had to do the same.
"He won’t open the door," Matthew said. "Trust me."
"Stay downstairs," Fredrick ordered. "I’ll let you in if he’s calm enough."
"You mean sober enough."
"Shut up, Matt," Fredrick hissed. "This is your fault, remember?"
"Oh, come on! Doesn’t Claire get the blame for this? She’s the one who cheated on him, remember?"
"Yes, but you are his bro-"
Fredrick braked fast as an ambulance van sped by. The brothers watched the vehicle swerve round a corner and disappear down the street. Matthew turned to Fredrick, who held the steering wheel tighter.
"It’s for someone else," Fredrick said.
"It wasn’t last time."
Fredrick slammed his foot down on the accelerator and drove after the ambulance. He willed the van to keep going, faster and faster, further and further. Instead, it slowed down and stopped in the road outside of Jack’s flat.
"There are other apartments here," Fredrick said. "It’s for someone else."
The emergency workers rushed out of the ambulance and buzzed the intercom below Jack’s flat. Jack’s neighbour, Marsha, flung open the door and pointed upstairs. She stepped aside and let the men pass.
Matthew dashed from the car and ran into the apartment building.
Fredrick slowly loosened his grip on the steering wheel. He got out of the car and approached the building, where he stopped in the front garden, hoping to spot Jack in the living room window. Instead there was a paramedic, who closed the curtains as the lights went on.
Fredrick climbed the stairs to the second floor corridor. Marsha and her husband were consoling Matthew, who was in tears by Jack’s flat. The local drug dealer Derek stood behind them, apologising to Matthew. When Derek spotted Fredrick, he rushed into his flat and bolted the door.
"That bastard ruined Jack," Fredrick said. "He knew how miserable Jack was and took advantage!"
Marsha offered her hand to Fredrick, who shook his head and walked past her.
"You’ve been a good friend to Jack," Fredrick said, "but he’s coming home with us. I want him as far away from that monster as possible! No more Derek and no more Claire."
"Fredrick, darling, Jack’s...gone," Marsha whispered. "He’s with the Lord now."
Fredrick shook his head again and entered the flat. The paramedics were in the living room, so he went to the bedroom. It stank of booze and rat’s droppings littered the carpet. A dirty suit hung on the wardrobe door.
"He hasn’t been to work in ages," Fredrick said. "No wonder his boss was always mad."
On the bed were photos of Claire with Jack on their annual Parisian holiday, last year’s engagement party, and private moments Fredrick was never meant to experience.
Fredrick went to the bathroom, where he found Jack’s possessions, including spoons, medication, scissors, broken wineglasses, and soiled underwear. He pushed aside some things to uncover the stained bathtub and infested toilet hidden from view.
A smashed clock on the table greeted Fredrick in the kitchen. There he found a bloodied knife on the floor, his eyes fixated on the thin blade.
"Mister Douglas, please come with us," a paramedic said.
"He looks faint," the other whispered. "Steady him."
Fredrick wrenched his arms away from the men and stormed into the living room. They followed him but then Matthew blocked their path.
"You’ve got five minutes," the lead paramedic said. "You’ll have more time at the hospital."
Jack was on the sofa, his mobile in one hand and a passport-sized photo of Claire in the other. Fredrick knelt down by Jack and said, "Wake up, mate." He nudged his baby brother and said, "Jack, get up! Stop playing around!"
Jack slumped over and his arm fell against Fredrick’s thigh. Fredrick cradled his brother’s slit wrist.
"Freddy, we’ve got to leave," Matthew said. "They need to take him."
"Jack, get up," Fredrick cried. "Come on, you did it before!"
"Freddy, this time it’s different." Matthew placed his hand on Fredrick’s shoulder. "There’s nothing we can do now. It’s over."
Fredrick shook his brother’s hand off and spun round to face him. Matthew backed away but Fredrick lunged forwards, pushing his brother down. Matthew fell to the floor and held up his hands when Fredrick raised his fist.
"You did this," Fredrick spat. "You ruined his life! Look what you’ve done!"
Matthew's eyes fell to the floor.
"You and that bitch killed him!"
"I just tried to help. Claire was upset so I..."
Fredrick returned to Jack and stroked his brother’s open wrists. He pressed his hand on the wound, trying to block out the bloodstained cushions from his mind. Matthew rose and stood by the window, his eyes on Fredrick.
"She had nowhere else to go," Matthew said. "After an argument with Jack, she needed to get away, she needed to think. I thought it’d help if she came to stay with me. That way, she’d be close by when Jack was ready to talk."
Fredrick’s eyes slit.
"I’d convince her to stay with Jack," Matthew said quickly. "I’d help her look past his addictions, so she’d remember why she’d fallen for him in the first place. I thought I could make her love him again."
Fredrick snorted.
"I tried, damn it, but she didn’t want him anymore. She’d had enough of his crap, and so had I!"
"Some brother you are."
"You’re worse! You haven’t called him since he overdosed in May." Matthew grabbed Fredrick by the shoulders and looked him in the eye. "Admit it. You were fed up with him too!"
Fredrick blinked back the tears. Matthew let his brother go.
"One evening," Matthew said, "I came home and found Claire in the kitchen. She was naked."
"For God’s sake, he’s still here," Fredrick wept. "Don’t hurt him again!"
"I wanted her so badly. I was ready to throw her on the breakfast table and...I couldn’t. I traced her body with eyes, but not with my fingertips. I pictured having sex with her a billion different ways, but, back in reality, I hung up my coat and went to my room. I released my frustration in there."
Fredrick sat by the body and rested Jack’s head on his lap. He stroked his brother’s hair, whispering, "Don’t listen to him. Just sleep, all right?"
"Jack hated me for keeping the affair a secret. I accepted that. We'd been best friends forever, but I crushed that friendship, that brotherhood, for Claire. I let her sleep around under my roof, and then lied to Jack's face. He never forgave me. I accept that."
Fredrick turned his brother’s head towards him. He could have sworn he’d seen a glint of anger in Jack’s wide eyes.
"He never forgave me," Matthew said, "and I’ll never forgive you."
Fredrick turned Jack’s head away.
"I can’t believe you were so bold," Matthew said. "Every night you’d sneak in, not caring whether you were caught. Then you’d both be so loud I couldn’t sleep. Imagine your poor wife up all night wondering where you were. Alice and Harriet, looking up to a father like you. Damn it, Freddy, you’re just like Dad!"
Fredrick sprung up and shouted, "Take that back!"
"You stood by and let Jack hate me."
"So you wanted him to shut us both out?"
"I should’ve told him." Matthew stood over the body. "He would’ve understood why I’d lied. It wasn’t to protect Claire, an outsider. It was to protect you, our brother. Our rock!"
"...Can you forgive me?" Fredrick asked, wiping his teary-eyes.
"I’ll forgive you the day Jack forgives me."
Sorry. I lied.
Everything up until the moment I saw the tattoo was the truth. The whole truth. I honestly hadn’t noticed the tattoo before that moment in the kitchen. I do remember peeling off the bandage the tattooist had put on my leg, but I’d done that when I was still half asleep.
When I saw the tattoo, I remembered the decision I’d made.
I will die today.
It was like I’d split into two. One side of me was terrified. He’s the one who wanted to live. He’s the one who considered the escape routes. He’s the one who called Fredrick. Then there was the other me. He wanted to die as I’d promised to. He broke the door handle and locked the kitchen window. He turned off the mobile, using Matthew’s call as an excuse.
They battled in my mind. The bright side brought back good memories of my nieces, my mother, and the happy times with Claire. The bleak side reminded me of Matthew’s betrayal, a dead-end job I’d suffered through for a decade, and Claire carrying another man’s child. One-by-one, life’s positives and negatives stacked up on the scale in my mind. I tried hard to keep everything in balance, but then the scales tipped.
Time ticked on until half past three.
When Fredrick knocked at the door, I didn’t answer it. He pleaded and pleaded, but I wouldn’t let him in. He’d even brought the twins. I couldn’t let them see me looking like a corpse. I could’ve washed my face a bit, I guess, and put on a cleaner shirt.
Or I could just cease to exist.
I remember him banging on the door. I could hear the twins whining. I covered my ears and screamed for them to leave. Then there was silence. They’d gone.
I watched TV, but I don’t remember what was on. It all seemed so pointless. Who cares about soap operas and chat shows when you’ll be dead within hours? Most people would spend their last moments with loved ones. I wouldn’t.
Around nine o’clock, I realised I hadn’t chosen my method. I thought of the different ways to end it all. Jump out the window? Not a chance. I didn’t want Fredrick to find me splattered on the ground below. I wasn’t even sure whether the fall would kill or disable me. Gas leak? Never! The explosion could kill others. I couldn’t die with myself knowing innocent parties were coming with me. Drugs? It didn’t work last time.
I went to the kitchen and took a knife from the drawer. I closed my eyes and pressed it against my wrist.
I couldn’t do it.
The dark side emerged from the shadows of my mind and placed its hands over mine.
I still couldn’t do it.
The dark side leaned in closer and placed its lips next to my ear.
"Your poor excuse for existence is pathetic," the dark side whispered. "After ten years driving attention-whores around London in the world’s cheapest limo, you’re still walked over come promotion time. Thirty-one years old and nothing to show but a failed long-term relationship with a slut. And people say she might be having Matthew’s baby. Maybe they will name him after Uncle Jack? Maybe not."
My hand was shaking so hard the knife nicked my skin. A tiny stream of blood slid down my wrist and onto the floor.
"You’re a failure at life," the darkness said. "Succeed at death."
No more Claire. No more Matthew. No more baby.
Now I knew why I’d gotten the tattoo. It symbolised my freedom. Freedom from months of pain for a moment of pleasure. Freedom from partying all night because I couldn’t face an empty bed. Freedom from drug binges to get me through work.
This was my only option. This was the only way. This was it.
When people decide to die, they feel euphoria because soon they’ll be free. That’s why I didn’t care about work. That’s why I locked myself in the flat. That’s why I locked everyone out. I didn’t want them to ruin this. The best day of my life: The end.
It didn’t rain at my funeral. Sorry. It won’t rain at my funeral.