Vermilion | mxm

08. Suicide

Attention: This chapter may contain descriptive elements about suicide. They can be triggering for some, apologies for the sensitive content but is needed to tell the story. If you feel depressed and with suicidal thoughts please ask for help and don't be ashamed of it. You're needed, you're loved and your life matters!!!

Roderick remained like this for seven more nights and eight more days, without eating but the leftovers kept on the refrigerator and barely walking from the kitchen to the living room, where he had permanently moved. His face had grown some dark sharp beard and black circles had formed under his eyes. His cheeks became hollow and if he had a little belly before, now he faced a plane stomach that never stopped growling in ache.

There was a blanket tossed over the large white sofa which colour had been once beige but now was indiscernible, and a pile of plates, cigarette butts, empty bottles of whiskey and possibly a stain of vomit on the carpet.

On the second and the first day he had thrown away all the mustard things, including curtains, pillows, clothes, paintings, coffee mugs and plates, even furniture, all with the most dangerous rage. He threw them away down the balcony, gaining several knocks on his door from worried neighbours that after a while ceased.

By the fifth day, he had started to mix sleeping pills and booze, which turned him pretty much into a zombie. It didn't stop until that Thursday morning when, after throwing his guts out, he decided it was better not to live anymore, not like this. He felt like he would never get out of that hole, and since the anvil had already sunk him and he was drowning, why not quickly end his own misery?

With his last strength, he took a warm, long bath and dressed up with a black suit he had been keeping for fancy parties --the ones he never attended to. So many things he never did anyway...

He had even shaved his face, and wore his expensive wristwatch, written his will of donating all of his belongings to charity, prepared his bed with new white sheets and black duvet, placed his sleeping pills beside the nightstand with a glass of water, but then the phone started to ring, just like it had been ringing every day around the same time.

He pretended it wasn't there -the phone- somewhere in the bedchamber, and swallowed four pills. As the phone wouldn't stop, he took three more, hoping it started to kill him quicker, or at least made him somehow deaf, but the noise was perennial.  He would've kept ignoring it, but it was hard to focus on dying with the thing making such a disruptive noise.

With a groan he stood up from his bed, only feeling half dizzy, and picked up the screaming device which was over Aaron's nightstand, he cleared his throat and got ready to talk to whoever had decided to ruin his death.

"Yes?", he said with annoyance, not trying to hide it.

"Mr Orman?", said the masculine voice on the other side of the line.

"Yes?"

"Finally! I thought you were out of the country", said the stranger with relief in his voice. "I even went to your workplace and they told me you didn't work there anymore. I'm really sorry..."

"I see you are well informed...who do I owe the pleasure to talk to?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. My name is Edward Jones, I'm Mrs Chadwick's attorney."

"I think you have the wrong number."

"No, I don't. please!", the man on the other side of the line begged and Roderick sighed harshly. "You're an architect, a very good one by the way. You might not remember but you worked for months in the design of Mrs Chadwick's charity hospital."

A flash memory of the design of that hospital came to Roderick, as he slowly remembered the face of Mrs Chadwick. Her name was Eleanor, a short lady in her seventies who would always wear fancy queen-like outfits. Her hair was already white and her factions resembled a once beautiful girl. She had always been really kind to Roderick, who gave her the idea of making a special wing for children with cancer, which if his memory wasn't that bad, carried the Orman name.

"Oh...that Mrs Chadwick. Impressive lady!" His voice warmed up at the regression. "I had a great moment working for her. It's been long since I've seen her. How is she doing?"

"She passed away Mr Orman."

Roderick made a moment of silence, feeling too dizzy, probably because of the pills he remembered swallowing, and suddenly, didn't want in his system anymore.

"I'll be right back, please call me in ten minutes."

He hung up the phone and ran to the bathroom, taking off both dark jacket and dress pants and tossing them over the carpet. As he expelled everything he had swallowed, hoping all the pills went away when he pulled off the chain, he thought about the real meaning of death. He thought of Mrs Chadwick and how lively she was, and how healthy she looked like, and all the many things she had wanted to do, and how now, all of that was simply lost. He remembered she wanted to build a home for elders after the hospital got inaugurated, where at least a few of them would stay for free. She wanted to make a trip to the Caribbean and visit some old friend she once met, who lived in Jamaica... And then...He thought of himself. So weak wanting to leave already, just because he lost his job and the love of his life... He hadn't done anything important yet, and it was sad to leave without being remembered.

He felt dumb, hollow, but a different feeling took over his heart. It was too soon to go, he couldn't let himself beat up like that. If he had no reason to live he shall find one, very soon.

The phone started to ring again, and he crawled back to the bed to pick it up, this time not angry, just sad.

"Hello", he answered.

"Are you okay Mr Orman?"

"Eh? Oh yeah...I'm better now. I'm sorry."

"No need to worry, it's ok. There are matters we should discuss personally, things I must not explain over the phone. I've been trying to reach you for a while now, exactly ten days. I sent you several emails but you didn't respond, and then I made my assistant drop a letter at your flat, and--"

"A letter?"

"Yes, a letter. I explained everything in there or most parts at least. I know it's old-fashioned but it was the only idea I had left, hoping you would find it sooner and contact me, but it looks like only today my messages got to you."

"I--I have the letter,  I just haven't read it yet."

"Oh well, take a look at it and when we meet you will only have to sign some papers. If possible tomorrow, it needs to be done as soon as possible. You will understand better after reading the letter. Please email me an address and time for our appointment. I have to go now."

"Okay Mr Jones, have a good day."

"Same for you Mr Orman."

The line dropped and Roderick sighed, letting himself fall backwards over the fluffy pillows and the soft mattress. He stared at the white ceiling for a while, thinking over and over about his possible life choices, still disappointed because he had no reason of his own to stay alive.
He had merely lived in the cause of Aaron, and that was simply so pathetic he now wanted to go backwards and change some things, but what was more deplorable, was the fact he still felt empty and in need, and honestly, if Aaron would've stepped in front of him right then, he would've forgiven him all.

A/N: Don't feel sorry for him...×_×
Sorry for the super short chapter but hey, more is coming to you.
I Have to say...This chapter and most of Roderick's feelings and personality are inspired by myself.
Those same anvils he feels, are the ones I have constantly pulling me down.
Truth is, happiness is a complete mystery, but I'm not done with figuring it out, neither is Roderick. He won't surrender, and neither will I.