Moments - A Short Story

It’s easy. Just one smooth movement, deep enough to wreak havoc. That should do.

It was raining outside. Not much; just enough for her to hear the pitter patter of the drops. Otherwise the streets were quiet. People were sleeping soundly on their comfortable beds, dreaming of wonderlands and good things. It was just her, in this dingy little room.

It shouldn’t be hard. There isn’t anything else to do.

She could just stop everything now. The end of all troubles. One slash on the wrist should do. But she couldn’t.

A moment is nothing if not for the moments that lead up to it. She had been thinking about this night for a while now. A long time in fact. At first it was just a thought that crossed her mind during the dreadful of times. Just the image of her slashing her own wrist. As time passed, she began to imagine the moments before the slashing of the wrist; how she would lie in her bath, the warm water engulfing her body. She was doing just that now but the moment she pictured a thousand times was not happening.

Often the moment does not matter as much as the anticipation that comes before it. It falls flat and you wonder where all the sparks went. It should feel bigger than this, she thought. I’m taking my own life; it should feel more important than this.

It wouldn’t.

The water was cold now. And the rain had stopped. She got out of the tub and dried herself. She would go outside. Maybe it would feel different outside.

The clouds had cleared up. There wasn’t a moon out tonight. There was no light. Too dark for this to feel important, she thought. Not like there would have been a spotlight on her as she did it, but somehow she always imagined someone crying the moment it happened. She didn’t know who it would be or if it were a he or a she. But she would hear sobs and tears falling to the floor.

Who would cry for her? Her parents would, of course. Would anyone else? Her friends, maybe. She wasn’t sure they cared for her so much. They did, probably. But she was skeptical. Or maybe Nick would. No. He’d just shrug it off saying “That girl was always mad”.

What a sad life, she chuckled to herself. Not a soul to shed a tear for me. I’ve not even fallen in love, she thought. She used to think she was but in all possibility it could have been the alcohol that gave the feeling. She needed to be drunk to feel like she was in love.

What would people remember her for? Or rather, her parents. Our daughter, they would think. Eventually even the memories would vanish. What would be there to show the world that once upon a time, she lived on this planet? Nothing.

She looked up at the stars. There were a decent number of them she could see. Some of them are probably just black holes now. There could be planets revolving around a few others, maybe even life on a minute number of those planets. Planets exactly like Earth with people exactly like her. Or maybe it was just her. In the entire universe.

Ha! As if! She wasn’t even close to being that unique.

She plopped down on the footpath. It was wet, she didn’t care. Maybe I don’t want to die, she thought. Maybe, just maybe I want to do something different.