[June 2nd, 2019]
Noelle Benjamin
This feels unreal.
I want to close my eyes forever and hope that in 1,000 years when I wake up, this will all be gone.
I watch my mother lie dead on the floor peacefully as the pain slowly eats at me. This has to be a dream. It can't be. Just this morning everything was fine. We were fine. She was sitting at that same dinner table in the corner eating Cheerios with me.
I sling the handbag hanging low on my forearm to the hardwood floor. A few items shuffle around as it hits the ground, the lump in my throat growing slowly as my eyes twitch in disbelief. This isn't real. I need to wake up. Why am I not waking up?
I need to call someone. The police, the paramedics, Harlow, anybody.
But I don't.
I don't move a muscle. I continue watching my mother's dead body rot in the middle of our apartment's kitchen. I don't understand. Why am I not doing anything? Why am I not helping the woman who brought me such a beautiful life? It doesn't seem so beautiful right now. My feet could melt into the floor with this sight.
I hear a light knock on the door, which makes the barrier of my shock break. Everything seems real now. I can process what's happening in front of me. And when it does, a rush of emotion travels to that still lump in my throat, tears immediately crashing down my cheeks. I blink, chewing my bottom lip in frustration. This is all my fault. I never should have left the house this morning.
"Miss Benjamin? London authorities." A voice speaks from the other side of the door.
How did they know she was here? I barely just got here. Did someone see her from the outside and they called the police? How long has she been dead? What if she was murdered?
I have so many questions, but I don't have enough time to answer them.
I spin around to face the front door, turning the knob in a rush. My hands are shaking, so the knob rattles a few times before I manage to get it fully open.
The door reveals my best friend Harlow's father, who's the detective inspector of London. I part my lips to speak, but instead he hurries to talk.
"It's okay dear, you're in shock, you're in shock." He repeats, pulling me out of the doorway.
The four other men behind him pace in my home quickly, kneeling to check on my mother. My hands are shaking uncontrollably, as I continue to attempt to calm myself down. My heart is in my throat, joining the lump, my eyes flickering around in every possible direction. Mr Jane drags me a few feet away from my house, where now there are multiple people crowding the front yard.
"It's okay. You're okay." He reassures me, his sweet features still not calming me down. He rubs my shoulders over and over, trying so hard to help me. "Can you tell me what happened?"
I don't jump myself to answer his question, my eyes keep flicking to the tall building 10 feet away from me, then the flashing lights. My sight slowly becomes dazed and my lips go back to their dry state. My head is pounding, the center of it carefully ringing into my ears. The lights begin blinding me slowly, as I feel soft drops of rain spread on the top of my head. I shuffle my toes around in my leather boots in hopes to focus on anything else. Anything else but this. I hear the light squeaking through all of the commotion around me, Mr Jane still attempting to grab my attention. But all I can think about is the building.
I can hear news reporters tumbling around to get the "exclusive shot." The ring in my ears grows louder and louder almost silencing all the other noises. My eyes feel heavy, like they're carrying a lifetime's worth of pain and tire. My mouth isn't trusted enough to speak yet, there are a whirl of emotions swallowing me up all at once. My ears are still muffling all outside speech, and my nose feels dry and it's hard to breathe.
"Noelle, oh my god. What the— what happened?" An all to familiar male voice says in concern through ragged breaths.
It's my ex boyfriend, George.
That became my ex boyfriend just 10 minutes ago.
"Baby— I mean, Noelle, talk to me." He tries just as hard as Mr Jane.
Truth is, I don't know. I don't know how any of this happened. All I know is, me and my boyfriend of three years got into an argument, broke up, I drove angrily home, and there my mother lied dead right in front of me as I opened the front door. But I don't think I have the strength to express all that with my lips.
The ringing completely drowns out the sound of any and all of my surroundings, my eyes staying glued on the building as Mr Jane and George continue their pleads for my attention.
Instead I free myself of Mr Jane's loose grip, starting a walk to the building. I hear very faint murmurs behind me, George trying to grab my wrist to stop me from my journey. There's a barely audible, "Where are you going?" from George, and a, "We need a shock blanket over here." from Mr Jane. But I don't stop. I'm only about three feet from the side of the building. I know the building. Harlow and I always used to sit up there when we were kids. We would tell each other silly innocent stories, and race the cars passing down the roads below us.
But that isn't my purpose this time. I just need all of the hurt to be gone. All the pain to be gone. All the confusion to be gone. All the anger to be gone. And that's exactly my plan. Because no one needs me here. They never needed me. My whole life was just a whole waste. This week wasn't good to begin with. Why suffer longer? Why hold a god damn funeral for my best friend? She's not here. I don't want any comfort or consolation from anyone but her. But it's too late for that. And it's too much for me. I have no purpose here. I'm done.
Their quiet chants continue to hum behind me as I reach the entrance of the building. I feel George grab my arm, turning me to face him.
"Noelle! Answer me." He begs and screams, moving his brown hair out of his face.
"Can you give me a moment please?" I finally speak, adding, "I'll be back in five minutes."
He tries to argue, but Mr Jane mouths to him, 'It's okay.' I wish I could say goodbye to Harlow before I go. She did so much for me. But she's probably still ten minutes away, and I haven't got any time to lose. Maybe I'll finally be at peace. After everything that's happened to me and my mom, maybe I'll be okay now. Maybe this was the universe's sign for me to let go. I make my way to the side of the building, where the familiar ladder hooks itself on the top of the building. It's a long climb, the drop must be at least a 100 foot drop. My sweaty hands latch themselves on the rusted metal handles of the ladder, attempting to hoist me up enough to reach the next step. I'm ready. All I have to do is get to the top, and I'm free. I won't have to fake being okay after my mother's death, I won't have to fix my relationship with George, I won't have to deal with any pain whatsoever. After my fall, I'll be at peace. I can vanish into nothingness, away from my excuse of a life. I never wanted it to end like this, but now considering both my parents are either dead or missing, I have no reason to exist. My palms continue traveling their way up the ladder, my eyes not wanting to look down.
Never mind, death may not be so easy after all. This kind of freaks me out.
As soon as George realizes my intentions, he bolts to Mr Jane. If I want peace, I better make that quick. I look up at the few steps left on my journey, one more tear trailing down my cheek as I smile a little. That smile is doing its level best to restrain the gallons of tears poking behind my eyes.
Mother dearest, I'll be joining you soon.
I hear a few men running around in panic what seems like thousands of feet below me. A few men in paramedic suits call out my name, and a couple others locating Mr Jane.
I set my feet on the hard concrete on the roof, which is surprisingly more comfortable to walk on than expected. I walk slowly to the edge of the building that faces opposite from my apartment. I twitch my head to the air ventilation system on the right of me, hearing a little commotion. I decide to ignore it, and just proceed the task I came up here to do.
This is it. This is the end.
I take a deep breath through my nose, closing my eyes for my next action. My knotted brunette hair flows behind me as one last droplet escapes my eyes.
Just as I prepare myself for the fall, a voice pipes up, my eyes peeling open to the startle.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you."
I turn my head to my right, noticing a man leaned against the venting system. Long beautiful curls reach to his shoulders, a middle part messily made at the top of his head.
"Excuse me?" I ask rhetorically. I was so ready for my moment and those guys are going to be up here any second, so let me do what I need to do.
He huffs slightly in amusement, stepping forward from the systems. He's dressed in a plain white t-shirt, a bandana hooked around his neck.
He's heavily tattooed, especially his biceps. He looks like the kind of man my mother would tell me to stay away from. He looks older, but definitely not wiser.
He steps closer, his eyes then shooting down to look at his toes. "I've seen many people die, love."
That was dark.
"Off this building, I mean. And you know what? I'm bored of it. Same old story for all of them." He continues. He makes a drawn out whistle, starting high then ending low to replicate those people's deaths.
"You're bored of it?" I raise my eyebrows a little, that being one of the first emotions I've shown in ten minutes.
He resumes, "Yes, bored. Do you have a hard time hearing?"
I furrow my eyebrows in offense, looking at him like he has all the nerve.
"Well, if you watched all those people die, then you certainly shouldn't have a hard time watching me die."
He puckers his lips slightly, one of his hands from his side raising to toy with his bottom lip. He furrows his eyebrows to copy my expression, except his tone is more thoughtful than offended. He takes a moment to come up with an answer, considering I made a very good point. I don't understand his sudden concern, especially since I just met him a minute ago.
"Right. But I've decided I want to keep you. And when I want to keep things, they stay mine." He says a little softer, going in circles around me like a shark closing in on it's prey.
I don't know what to say, instead I keep my lips sealed until he speaks again.
"Let's hop down shall we? I'm a bit starved, you like fish and chips?" He offers calmly, which makes my eyes squint. He leans away from the air venting system, almost skipping to the ladder.
"I'm sorry, what?" I ask in disbelief. What is this man on? Does he not see my tear stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes? We've only just met, that too on a building where I was planning to die, and he wants to go get fish and chips together.
"Am I going to have to keep rephrasing things for you?" He peeks off the side of the building that's facing my flat. I can still see the red and blue police lights reflecting into the sky, but my main focus is the man.
"I came here to die, not for fish and chips." I ignore his previous question, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear.
"Fine, then go on."
"What?"
I'm confused he told me the complete opposite two seconds ago.
"Kill yourself and get it over with." He clearly states, ruffling his hair around a bit. I look at him in pure and utter puzzle.
I hesitate, but then look at the edge of the building. Hundred feet is still a bit concerning. But, I'm given my opportunity, so there's no turning back now. I stay stiff, repeating the same ritual as before. A long deep inhale through my nose, and an exhale out my mouth. I can see him watching me in boredom from the corner of my eye, as if this is some joke. I prepare to launch myself, but flutter my eyes back open to look at the drop. It's too much. I can't. I turn back to him hesitantly, watching small smirk pull upon his face.
"You don't want to die love. You want to disappear. It's a universal feeling." He explains as he makes his side part more clear. He asks again, "Now, fish and chips?"
Before I can respond I hear a series of hollers, calling out my name.
"Noelle! Noelle! You don't need to do this! You're in grief! We'll fix this, please! Noelle are you listening to me?" George repeats over and over, as I walk over the the opposite side of the building to show him my presence. No matter how our relationship ended, he doesn't deserve the fear of me dying. He was there for me for so much.
"I'm okay! Just give me a minute!" I holler back down. I turn back to face the man, a smile erupting onto his lips.
"What's so funny?" I ask in utter confusion.
He smiles even wider, his eyes widening along. "He's cute isn't he? The ideal boyfriend."
I raise my eyebrows in slight offense, considering he was my boyfriend for three years. George is nice. There's absolutely nothing wrong with George. What does he mean by ideal boyfriend?
"You don't know him. Hell, you barely even know me." I snap back slightly, as my original state returns.
"I don't have to. I could already tell it was your mother lying dead in there by the way they dragged you out."
My heart pinches a little at his statement, as I remember that she's actually gone. I stare at my toes while toying with my fingers to avoid saying anything else. I haven't even begun thinking about the funeral and telling Harlow. God, I know she'll miss her just as much as me. My mom practically raised Harlow. She was always at my house.
"Sorry." He apologizes, making me look back up at him. He still has his elbow perched against the ladder edge of the building, his chin resting in his palm.
I clear my throat, as I wipe my eye bags with my two middle fingers. I don't want George to see the dried up tears. I haven't cried since driving on my way back home, so he'll know it was from our argument.
"Okay, I should go down. Uh, be careful up here. It's kind of creepy." I ramble for a moment, towering over his relaxed body next to the ladder. He just grins silently, burning his eyes into mine for a moment.
I escape into his eyes for a moment, then hurry to pull myself out. I find myself on the long drop ladder, turning my figure around to climb back down. As my numb fingers touch the cold metal, I feel alive again. My physical body feels awake again, after a long fifteen minutes.
"Thank you." I mumble. If he hadn't spoken to me, I would've made a quick and impulsive decision.
Just as I let my right foot step down on the first step, I hear a hum from him. I stop, staring up at him.
"Remember what I said." He pauses, "When I keep things,"
"They stay mine."
//
a/n: i know that was so much to take in for the first chapter, but good job. you made it. let me know what you think !!
p.s, remember that if you ever find yourself in a situation like this, please talk to someone. people love you and care about you.
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