Tinted Scars

14. Beyond Redemption

“Most people are stronger than they know. They just forget to believe it sometimes.” – Keith Scott.

•••

Eri’s hands flailed about feebly, in a bid to grasp on to anything that could break his fall but he was going under. It didn’t help that his arms and chest had been blistered with fresh, deep injuries that caused pain to sizzle through his body as he tried to battle his way back to the top of the well, frantically. His body was slowly slipping into the void of darkness, and he could hear the haunting echoes of death—taunting him from several feet beneath, but he refused to cave in. If he had only himself to worry about, he could have yielded but not when Elienai had staked her life to save him too.

Exhaling hard, he heaved himself up—summoning the last bit of his strength ingrained deep in the depths of his soul. His right hand clutching onto a rusted patch at the top of the well—the only thing anchoring him—scraped hard against the surface, due to his vigorous movement and opened up several gashes of blood on his knuckles. Crying out, he reached out with his left hand, hoping it would grab onto anything to prevent his imminent fall, and his fingers found a rope which he guessed was the bucket suspender.

Pivoting himself with the momentum of his feet, he pushed himself off the wall, released his right hand and leapt for the rope. His hands latched onto it, but the force of his swing was strong and he ended up ramming his forehead into the other side of the wall. The pain zinged in his head and the bucket suspender started to come apart in his hands. With the remnants of his energy, he flung himself at the opening of the well and crashed down on it—his ribs exploding with fresh, debilitating pain but he couldn’t focus on that now. Matter of fact, the pain that finally ended him was seeing Elienai—a couple of meters away from the well—on the floor, quaking in a puddle of her blood—guzzling out of a wide gash on her temple.

“NO!” The air abandoned his lungs, and he slipped back into the well—bashing the back of his head against the edge as he fell—the rope coming apart after being strained by his full weight. This was it, Eri thought. The end he had deliberately sought out himself, because he was beyond redemption and wouldn’t ever be granted a chance for recompense. But now he was going to die with the unbearable guilt, that the consequences of his own actions had taken the life of someone he loved.

It was the worst way to die.

***

Earlier that day.

Right from the inception of the orientation program, the seething noise of clashing frequencies was whistling in Eri’s head tuning out everything—his vision and hearing—to mist and fog. The void within was calling, its voice louder than ever—resonating with his pain. He didn’t think he had what it took to repel it this time around, as his sorrow was too big of a magnet, pulling him against his will. Resisting was only stalling and postponing the time of his execution. It was inevitable, like the fall of a fierce, indomitable soldier taking on an entire army of hundreds.

Since his panic attack the previous evening, his friends had been quite cautious and chary around him, as if he were an eggshell that would crack at the mildest touch. He felt like a poison ivy on the other hand, that could sting with toxic venom and inflict severe damage at the slightest touch. His heart rate was the ticking of a time bomb, every subsequent beat drawing him closer to the end. There was no failsafe to defuse the bomb. Nothing he could do that would undo the situation.

The news had trended like wildfire the previous evening, and he had been labeled all sort of ominous, evil things for having thoughts he couldn’t control—thoughts he had never acted on. Of course, no one knew his identity yet as the people responsible for leaking the news had no evidence that could implicate him, but he knew it was only a matter of time. Everything was coming together seamlessly for his downfall, and it wasn’t going to take long before his face would be smeared all over the university’s gossip site, Twitter, blogs and even the news—if the magnitude of the situation escalation continued with its exponential trajectory.