Alfonso's Bride

Suicide- 14

Alfonso woke up to a gag that had caught up with him. His head felt surprisingly too heavy for him and suddenly one of the deadliest ideas came to his mind.

He did not want to live anymore. He did not want to have radiation therapy. Yes it was not painful but the idea of him having headaches and sore throats for the next five weeks did not please him even to the slightest. He hated it in fact. He did not want Helena to see him ill and weak.

Helena was a good woman who deserved better. Alfonso smiled as the events of yesterday played themselves in his mind. He kept on thinking about how Helena looked when she tried beer for the first time. Of course that was the last time she was going to have it if he had a hand on the issue. She looked chaste and naïve and Alfonso wanted to break that wall by giving her beer.

He kept on thinking about how she looked with her wide smile as she rode oblivion. Everything about her was so calm even though she chose wild rides at some point. She never guffawed like he did but she let out a low deep giggle which you could miss if you were not concentrating.

He loved all that about her. She was beautiful and sylphlike, a combination of traits Alfonso had never had before. She looked almost fragile especially when Alfonso held her wrist. He felt as if he could easily break it into two if he held too tight.

He was falling for her and he knew too well that falling for such a woman was a mistake. She always talked about her "pa" never referring to him as something else. He somehow knew Helena was doing everything for the company and non of it was about him.

That was exactly why he had vowed never to fall for the woman, but however the woman was acting like Adam's Eve making it highly impossible for him not to fall for her. Of course he was not the husband package and he knew it. He had threatened to rape her and now he had a disease.

Clatercynclosis. What the hell was that? Who even knew it?

He felt it was easier if he just killed himself and saved Helena the horror of his illness. At least Helena will still have a picture of the man she married rather than a skinny monster she was stuck with. When he died he did not want to leave a pitiful image of himself. Rather he wanted to keep his status of the English businessman who had a heavily diluted accent that made him sound American. That businessman who held the company driving it to greater heights all over the world.

He did not want to be that man who watched another man take over what was his while he lay miserably in bed not even able to twitch a muscle. Prosperous, is how he wished to be remembered and that was not too much to ask.

Alfonso picked up a cable rope and got out of bed shivering terribly. He did not want to die but he did not want to suffer anymore either. He did not want to die, God be a witness. Jesus, he loved Helena now and that hurt even the more. He took a bottle of his medications ready to pop in some.

He poured them into his palm and sorted them on the table, each pill for someone in his life, someone worth remembering. Three for the afternoon intake, he wouldn't forget those he was on course and Foster had made it clear to him not to skip his medication. Two for his father who never even visited him when he was in the hospital or even at home. Two would do fine, he was not even worth the pain. Ten for his mother who had died when he was still young- ten years of age. Ten for the ten years was really a fair deal. He loved his mother but it broke his heart he couldn't be there for him when he needed her the most.

Six were for Melanie who had walked out on him on the sixth of August during such an afternoon. Four for himself for doing such a selfish act. He had to dedicate some for himself too, he did not have to be selfish because he was dying.

Another four for Lalie who had kept him alive for the past years since his mother died. The last one, because it was the only one remaining on the bottle and he wouldn't just leave it there alone.