Hitting Zero

Not Alone Anymore

I shook myself awake, grabbing and tugging the moment the tiniest part of my consciousness appeared. Somewhere outside, birds chirped, probably happy about being together. If only I had people to do that with. A dark thought flitted through my mind and I flicked my wrist, a red light slowly starting to glow. I almost took a breath of relief when I saw it, but I held it back. It wasn't like I believed in any of this soul-mate bullshit. Or like I even deserved to have one. The poor bastard that ended up with me would have to suffer for so goddamn long. And I was the worst.

I was annoying, ugly, dumb, pretty much the worst of everything. I wasn't social, no matter how hard I tried to claim otherwise, I didn't have any hobbies or talents. I mean, sure, some women might complain how ugly they are, with their flowing blonde locks and F-cup breasts and perfect white teeth, but I was bad all the way through. I had messy brown hair which refused to go into any kind of order. My face or my body weren't perfect, or my body. My eyes weren't piercing, or cold, or warm; they were just dull, complacent and wide, staring out at the world like I wasn't even capable of human thought.

Looking across the pile of messy clothes, I noticed an empty bed. She'd left already. Must've been nice to have a social life. But still, even I should have been going out today. Besides, I'd have to go out at midnight-it'd probably be the easiest way to find my "soul-mate".

Especially given what today was. I'd done the maths yesterday, before I'd gone to sleep, just when I'd noticed that the clock was ticking down to close to a day. I was going to meet him (or her; who the hell knew?) at midnight on New Year's Eve. Symbolic, right? It sounded like a perfect opportunity for some turning over of new leaves. But no.

It was just pure coincidence. I wasn't turning any leaves over, I wasn't changing anything, and I sure as hell wasn't making it to next year. I didn't want to see what I'm like with another person stuck to me. And besides, I didn't have any actual reason to stay; the only thing that meeting them would do would be to remind me just how soul-crushingly alone I was. I mean, when you have to let fate intervene in your life to develop any kind of relationship, that's when you know you're not cut out for this thing called life.

I didn't want to even crawl out of bed today. But I had to if I wanted to tie up all the loose ends. And goddamn, if I was going to leave this world, I may as well do it in an organized fashion. That was all I was good for anyway. Ever since I was a kid, I'd always had an obsession with not leaving a single trace behind me. Every time we moved houses, I'd run from room to room, checking under benches, around the corners of wardrobes, in tiny nooks and crannies, making sure no one would know that I had been there. Today would be the same. I'd be trying to find the little things, the things I'd forgotten; the things that might make people miss me. And I'd get rid of it, so I could go free, without the knowledge that someone out there would know that I was gone.

It was pretty easy for the most part. I burnt all the papers in my room, balling them up and dousing them in oil in the sink. Neighbors would probably complain about it to my landlord tomorrow, but I wouldn't really be there to care, would I? Stripping the cupboards bare of all the clothes I had, I balled it up, stuffed it in a bag, and slipped out of the apartment; now empty but for the fittings neatly fixed to the walls, things that didn't belong to me.

Laden with several garbage-bags full of clothes, pillows, sheets, whatever, I tottered down the stairs. The old 91 Corolla sat waiting for me. Dropping the stuff on the rough pavement messily, some of the contents falling haphazardly across the sidewalk, I pulled out the key and opened it. The smell of hot, musty summer air trapped inside gave me a shock as it tickled my nose. Somehow, even that much sensation reminded me that I was alive; what a poor state of affairs. I'd fix that soon enough. It was a done deal, I just had to find my "soul mate", figure out exactly what kind of person my perfect match was. Probably scum like me. Shaking off any thought at all, I began to shove the stuff into the car.

I drove lightheadedly all the way to the dump. It didn't matter if I crashed and died, but there was too high a chance that I'd survive and instead become something that would be victim to everyone else's worries. I couldn't have that happen, so I tried to focus on the crinkled asphalt ahead of me, curling and snapping in the flame of the sun's glare. Something about the constant strip of black ahead of me calmed me, a definite path with no need to think.

Finally, I pulled into the dump. There was just one guy sitting at the gate, and as he waved me in, he said something strange.

"I wouldn't suggest you be out right now."

I gave him a curious look, but wasn't particularly interested in whatever he was talking about. It didn't matter. Yeah, I'm a despicable piece of shit who can't bring herself to care about other people, but I mean, that's why I was doing all this. This was my one good act, my one final Hail Mary act in the hope that someone would notice me, even if it was after I died.

It took me a surprisingly long time to get any of it out; surprise, surprise, a Corolla wasn't designed to fit an apartment full of things inside. I gave up at around the same time that my shirt was drenched enough to hydrate an entire family. The sun was setting, and it was getting dark. I felt gross, like an animal, and I was pretty sure I had absorbed some of the smell of the dump while there. Ew.

Instead of just persevering, I did what I should have done in the beginning, and trudged out of the tip car-less and looking worse for wear. Damn it. I'd at least wanted to die in somewhat clean clothes. Still, now, everything was done. Just had to get to somewhere...high.

The train ride was surreal; it felt so weird to be near so many people, and know that I was going to die. I nearly missed my stop.

I'd spent some time figuring out how to do this so I'd definitely, y'know, splatter the pavement, instead of just breaking a few bones and having a boo hoo with my mommy. I'd pretty much planned it all out, but looking at places online felt so detached that I hadn't felt anything at the thought of falling off of those pretty glass buildings.

I spent the last of my money even getting into the place. The doorman gave me a weird look, but a few hundred made him turn his head. But even though my throat was dry, my heart beating faster than it had any right to, and my eyes suddenly very damp, I forced myself into the elevator. I noticed in the LED panel there was a clock, and I realized that the seconds blinking away meant more now than they ever had. It was 9 already, and I almost choked at what that meant. Three more hours. Three more hours to do what I could, then it would be all over. Shit.

The elevator dinged at the highest floor. My stop. Forever. I'd have to climb the rest of the way up, I guess, but still, it was a nice and poetic thought. But there was no poetry in me heaving myself up the stairs, shoving the door's rusty hinges open, and gagging on the weird burning plastic smell coming from the vents. I sat down, and shoving my hand in my pocket, I found the last vice I'd let myself have. Leaning against the railing I'd soon be jumping over, I started to read.

I'd gotten halfway through the book when my wrist started flashing. It was midnight in ten seconds, my time was up, and I wouldn't even get to see him, or her. I sighed, a tiny tremor hiding behind that sound, and climbed up onto the railing. I took one breath. Two. Started to lean forward. This was it. Finally.

I took a glance at the tiny city below me.

Then they pulled me back.