Too Late

A warm and salty rain, his sweat danced along his chiseled jawline and dribbled down onto her face. She had called him over. Begged him, like she always had to. And she thought having him fill her would make her feel less empty. She had been wrong. Eyes scrunched shut, he grunted and used her flesh until he came, rolled off her, and walked out the door.

She felt even more empty and alone than before.

A cigarette hung loosely from her lips. She took a deep drag and relished the burning sensation which crawled its way down her throat and into her lungs. Pain. It was the only thing she could feel. Pain. It was her only friend.

She stood naked at the rear window of her flat, her long golden locks tousled and moist. It was gray out, just like it was in. And she saw her reflection in the dingy glass and suddenly felt sick. Running to the bathroom, she flung back the lid of the grimy porcelain bowl and her body lurched forward.  She heaved and gagged, gagged and heaved, over and over, choking on her inadequacies. But try as she might, the nothingness which filled her clung to her bones and refused to leave.

Atop the stained Formica counter stood a row of bottles. Shakily, she stood and picked one of them up, examining it closely. She smiled. And she swore it smiled back, whispering delicious promises to her.

Why hadn’t she thought of this before?

Everything suddenly making sense, she opened the bottle and dumped its contents into her other hand. And like a child feasting on Halloween candy, she greedily shoved all the pills into her mouth until she could fit no more, until some slipped out.

She wanted to swallow them. Wanted to allow all her new friends to fill her and make her better. But her throat clamped shut and denied her of what she so desperately wanted – an end to the perpetual misery that was her so-called life.

Pacing in circles like a rabid animal, she foamed at the mouth and cried, spitting some of the paste from the semi-dissolved pills onto the weathered wooden floors. A part of her – the part which kept her from swallowing – waited for the person she never called to come and rescue her.

Grabbing at her hair, she tugged and pulled. And the room began to spin and the walls danced closer to her. Had it not been for the mouthful of pills, she would have screamed, would have cried. And, who knows, maybe someone would have heard her.

It was all too much –this life. And this end which she’d dreamed of, this end which she’d prayed for every night, seemed always just beyond her reach.

And just like that, like an over-used rubber band which had been weakened, she snapped. She fell to the floor. She gave up completely. She let the pain feast of the sparse remnants of her lonely existence.Too Late

Exhausted, her throat finally opened up. And the demon inside smiled.

Thrashing and rolling about, she wheezed and took her last few breaths, and her eyes met those of her grandfather in the picture frame on the table just above her. Panic tickled what was left of her heart and a pain with which even she was unfamiliar skipped across her soul.

She wasn’t really alone. There were people. People who cared. She’d once had a life. She once knew how to smile. It was all foggy and unclear, but she could see a part of herself she’d forgotten existed.

Why hadn’t she thought of this before?

Her body shook and trembled, softly at first, then violently, and then softly once more. And as she choked for the very last time on her bitter disappointment, she realized what a horrible mistake she had made. But it was…

Too late.

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