New Title 3 (28 page)

I feel alone, frightened, guilty. I sit there in the tub long after I've gotten in, thinking, pondering, exploring. Looking toward the clock, I see that the time is five minutes to twelve. My lips stop quivering as I bite down on them.

The rain has ceased for now, but I know that as sure as the sun will shine tomorrow, the rain will follow it and life will be restored. Life will return. For those who deserve it, and can manage the strength to continue.

I look at my wrist and then at the knife in my other hand. The knife is so sharp that my flesh would offer no resistance to one quick slash. That's all that it'll take, I tell myself. One quick motion, just one cut: then, release.

Pressing the blade against the softest and most tender area of my wrist is easy. The steel is as cold as the water and I feel nothing as I immerse my arm. They say it is painless. I wait for some signal that I may commence with the execution. Of course there is no gun to sound or flag to fall. I am waiting only for myself to be ready to truly end the life that has plagued me so much in such a short time. It should be easier than this, I should not hesitate...

Suddenly it happens. I pull the blade down my forearm, tearing my flesh indiscriminately. It is not painless. My hand goes numb but the gash throbs horribly. I breathe deeply. I watch my lifeblood colour the water, lightly at first and then darker with each passing second.

“
My God...” I catch myself muttering. “My God...”

The scent of blood seeps out of the water, stinging my nose, as I squirm uncontrollably. My first thought is of Sara, to yell out to her but I stifle any attempt by covering my mouth with my one good hand. When calm, I lift my right arm out of the water. I can't help it. Curiousity has gotten the better of me.

The sight is overwhelming. My whole forearm is gashed so deeply that I can see tendons. I watch as blood spurts aimlessly from my wrist. I grasp at the wound, covering it. The feeling of blood escaping through my fingers is grotesque.

I've done it. There's no turning back now. Even if I wanted to, I'd be too faint to drag my near-corpse out of the tub. I feel the colour drain from my face. I am thirsty. Was I crazy to end it like this?

As I lie here in a shallow watery grave, cold as death, I feel something through the dense haze of pills, something approaching euphoria. My death is an exit from a tormented existence. What I've done here is a mercy killing.

All that matters now is that I know peace. My head fills up with the idea of it. I giggle, this time losing all control. It comes in force now, without reason or purpose. Perhaps the purpose is all too clear. It's funny that I should leave this earth in such a state of peace, of joy. It's a wonderful feeling; the regret is forgotten. I experience a joy I have been denied too long.

And so my life, such as it was, flows through my muddled head, on the edge of reality much like my pending death. Like a high I can't come down from; I wouldn't want to. The giggling stops as abruptly as it began. My head slips under the cold sheet of red water. My sight fades, and sound is now reduced to a faint and sparse heartbeat underwater. It's so unreal.

The world is fluid. There is a knocking under water; and a tiny voice that accompanies it, calling my name. Joel. A murky image. Am I being lifted?

The last feeling I remember took me by surprise: it was the feeling of wrapping my arms around a tree. It was a little like love.

Additional Resources:

www.the-judas-syndrome.com- official website for the book

www.mikepoeltl.com- official author website

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