Even though the place I parked my Cubo was less than a minute away from my flat, each step out of my car felt heavy, as if someone had attached weights to my legs. My knees wobbled each time I planted them on the ground, to the point where I thought I was going to trip and fall. It was the longest walk from my car to the house I'd ever taken.
What was the point in that session? How did Dr Eve think that was going to help me in the slightest? What was the point in anything anymore? How was I supposed to go on knowing that there was no purpose to my life? What was even the point in me breathing?
Everything had crumbled around me, and seemed to fall apart even faster with each tired breath I took. Tired. Yes, Dr Eve was right about that. I was tired. Tired of it all. So very tired – of just living.
Would it really be so bad if I just stopped breathing? Would anyone really mourn me if I disappeared? Would the world stop turning if I were to just vanish off the face of the Earth? Of course I knew the answers to these questions – even a blind girl could see that I was just taking up the airspace of someone that deserved it more. Everything I did was just pointless. Pointless. I couldn't even cry anymore, my tears had all dried up; and even if I could produce more, no one would hear me. If I screamed until my throat was hoarse, no one would listen. I bet if I was just lying on the pavement, dying of blood loss, no one would even bat an eyelid. I was forgotten about. Disenfranchised. Left behind. My time was over before even I realised I had time. Even the shit on a shoe was more memorable than me.
I didn't even realise I was at my front door before I bumped my head into it. I reached into my pocked for my key, before a sound echoed in my ear, which was so loud that they could have been standing next to me for all I knew.
"Oi-oi!"
I turned slowly, it was a group of drunken idiots – probably the same ones that kept me up at night. They laughed and made nondescript talk, barely able to hold onto the bottles in their hands. Their laughter echoed in my ear, even though they weren't aimed directly at me. I furtively gazed at them as they continued their banal conversation.
I lowered my head, realising that these idiots were probably happier than me, in spite of it all. They looked happy, as if they didn't have a care in the world, like they had no future, but were completely ok with that. It must have been great to have that way of thinking, not caring about what was going to happen in lift in the hope that you could just breeze through it willy-nilly.
And yet to look at them, they would probably stab you just to afford the next drink.
Stab you.
I looked back again. There were four of them. One of me. A fight that most would avoid.
Dr Eve had asked me what I was going to do about it. And if she wanted me to do something, then why should I disappoint her.
Breathing in through my nose, I stiffened my posture and marched towards them like a soldier marching to death. I moved to the closest one, in a blue hoodie and smoking what I thought was a cigarette – and yet the closer I got the more pungent it became. I stood beside him, waiting for him to notice me. His mouth was wide so that I could see the braces shining in his mouth. As he turned to me, his spotty face dropped to a look of utter disgust.
"What the fuck are you looking at?"
By the tone of his voice, he couldn't have been older than fifteen or so. Definitely still a teenager. His friends probably were as well. They all dressed so similarly to him that they could have been clones of each other for all I knew, save for the black kid resting up against some stairs. I didn't bother meeting their gazes, they would probably jump me soon enough.
"Hey, dickhead!" the brat said, flicking his special cigarette away. "I asked you a question."
I snorted and shook my head, I could feel the alcohol and grass from his breath, but it didn't rock me as I thought it would. I stared him back with as much anger as I could, anything to get him riled up. "What are you doing with your lives? Is this all you want to do? Don't you have any ambitions beyond just getting pissed?"
"Oi, Josh!" the black kid chuckled. "He sounds like you're counsellor!"
"Fuck off, Anson!" the kid I assumed was called Josh answered back. "What's your problem, mate?"
"People like you make me sick!" I growled. "You're just a waste of space! You don't deserve to be on this planet! You'd be better off killing yourselves!"
Josh's friends did a loud oooooooohhhhhhh to show how unimpressed they were.
"Are you pissed or something?" Josh asked. (I was, but not in the way they were thinking). "Why don't you just get out of it, Skeletor!"
Skeletor? That was a new one. I held my gaze.
"Hey Josh, maybe he's queering you up!" said another one of the group.
"That's it, innit?" Josh growled, taking a sip of his beer and throwing it to the ground. The glass smashed and echoed across the empty street. "You trying to queer me up, you fucking pedo! Why don't you just piss off before I fucking slap you!"
Good, now I had his attention.
"Do it then," I replied without hesitation.
"What?" Josh's face seemed to drop, seeming surprised that I would take him up on that offer. "You on drugs?"
"What's the matter? You a pussy?" I did everything I could to fire them up. "Come on, let's see what you got!"
All of a sudden, Josh didn't know where to look. He looked anywhere he could but me. My disappointment shot up somewhat as Josh seemed to whimp out for whatever reason. Hadn't he seen this movie before? I insult him, he beats the shit out of me, I go to the hospital and die – the end. Clearly he needed another push.
"What's the matter? You said I'm a pedo, right? Don't I deserve to be killed? Huh? Let's see what you got. Come on!"
I slapped him round the face a couple of times to hopefully push him into violence. My slaps wouldn't kill a fly, but even these made him whimper like a little girl.
"Hey, hey! Take it easy, mate!" Anson, the black kid said. There were four of the fuckers and just one of me. I expected one of them to sneak up on me and smack me on the head, but they just backed away in terror.
"Come on, you cunt!" I screamed at Josh. "Hit me! Stab me! Do something, you useless shit!"
I struck him more times and I saw that tears were falling down his cheeks, he seemed closed to crying. Anson grabbed Josh and pulled him away. "Come on, let's get out of here! This guy is fucking psycho!"
Before I knew it, the brats were running down the streets as if they just got owned by a superhero or something. "Really?" I screamed. "That's all you got? Come back here! Wankers!"
Of all the teenagers in this city that caused trouble, I had to get the scaredy cats! Where was a mugger out to stab someone for their wallet when you needed one? I slapped my forehead, trying to force out the pain from my head. I stumbled back, stepping on some broken glass. Thankfully I had my shoes to protect me otherwise it would have gone into my skin.
I walked into the light from one of the streetlamps above and it blinded me for a moment. I looked down, and saw the liquid in the street from the broken beer bottle. I caught a glimpse of something in it. I knelt down, looking closer at the hideous creature that revealed itself to me. It was a gaunt, skeletal figure, eye bags and crows' feet under sunken eyes and pale looking flesh. It looked like a zombie, except without the blood and desire to eat human flesh. It couldn't even pass as human anymore. It was a monster, an abomination, an outsider from civilised society. Something that people wouldn't even pass on the same side of the street of. And it was looking right back at me.
I reached in and touched the liquid, it bubbled and shook and I expected the monster to disappear. But it was still there. I gasped aloud, realising who this monster was.
The tip of my finger felt sore, I looked at it and saw blood trickle from it. It dropped onto a large shard of glass, the remains of the bottle that Josh had thrown down during his tantrum. The pointed end was sharp and already stained in my blood. But there was always room for more.
If you want a job done right – do it yourself!
I lifted up my sleeve and then took the shard of glass, aiming it towards the top of my arm. I had read somewhere that slitting your wrist is not a good way to kill yourself as you'll bleed out slowly. But if you slice the vein from the top to bottom, you'll bleed out in seconds. At least it would be a quick death.
And yet, just when the glass was inches away from my skin, my arm froze. It was as if it refused to move, frozen in place for all eternity. I forced my thoughts through to it, ordering it to move and slice my flesh. One pound of flesh would be more than enough to pay for my sins.
My arm wouldn't move, frozen in space, my will not able to move it despite my desire to end it all. My arm shook as I but all my strength to move it, but nothing seemed to work. It was as if my thoughts wanted to prolong my suffering for as long as it could. It was as if death itself has refused me.
I grit my teeth and pushed down, still my arm refused to move. Still it refused my orders. Still the shard was denied more blood.
"FUCK!"
I threw the shard across the street, hearing it break further down. My legs failed me as I fell. My hands went to my head as I begged my eyes to release tears – my ducts were dry. I wanted to scream, but it felt like my mouth was sewed shut. I took in breaths, but nothing was able to give me any release. It was as if all I could sense was pain and suffering. All that I was good for was to be a punching bag for others.
What really more could I have gone through? What more did I have to suffer?
Is this what Jobe went through? Didn't he have to suffer just to prove his faith? I wasn't trying to prove anything, I was just trying to live. And now I didn't want to anymore, it was like there was no escape. No escape from anything.
What more could I do?
What was I going to do?
What should I have done.
I think, that was the moment. The moment where I made up my mind.