Suicide – A short Short Story
The winds blew strongly – I could feel my hair billowing in all directions in the raging winds, as though it intends to rip them from their roots. Angry, grey clouds gathered in the horizon, slowly brewing to a mighty storm, edging closer as every second of my life draws to a close.
Everything around me and below me looked bleak, I would not believe that anything could be bleaker from up here. I have noted that with every storm, life becomes grey and monotonous – devoid of colour and life as if Mother Nature is hell bent on sucking the very essence of excitement and enjoyment out of our lives during stormy days.
Even now, everywhere below me looks the same, as specks of tiny people decreases in their seek for shelter from the coming storm. Every building around me looks the same, standing eeriely silent before the groanings of the world. Peeling, greying, dilapidated walls – showing their age.
Here I stood – twenty-eight floors above in the middle of the city. A towering twenty-eight floors on the very rooftop of the building that housed my cubicle in my office, my hell-hole, my Purgatory. Here I stood, before a cruel and unjust world that seems to mock me whereever I turn. It is a feeling I loathe to have but has been a part of me for the last twenty-four years of my existence.
Here I am at the edge of my life. A life that has earned nothing and felt nothing. A sense of heaviness prevails in the very pit of my stomach, welling like a maddening giant. It is a feeling I can no longer stand.
I took a step closer.
I shivered before the angry looking sky, fighting back the tears that relentlessly insist on overflowing. A sign of weakness.
I yelped and jumped a little as a fork of lighning flashed far ahead…followed by growl of the deafening thunder. Then it came… like a torrent the sky opened and emptied itself. Within moments I was soaked through and through. Yet, there I stood, willing the tears to flow…willing the sky to wash away the pain, the weariness, the sorrow.
******************* An hour earlier*****************
"JACK!!! GET YOUR SORRY ASS IN MY OFFICE… NOW!!" – Evil Boss Man screamed over the intercom…loud enough for my busybody, snake-tongued colleague in the next cubicle to take a quick peep over the barrier to see the commotion and, no doubt, to eavesdrop.
Lord, what did I do now – I thought anxiously, a sickening feeling started in my stomach. Without saying a word, i turned off the intercom and began to rehearse lines over my head. My heart felt like it was on overdrive. I could barely feel like breathing.
It was a bloody nauseous feeling.
"The boss sure sounded mad 'bout something, Jack," – whispered my snake-tongued colleague, with that obviously fake tone of concern in his voice. "Sure glad it wasn't me. Good luck in there, man." – he said with that fucking smirk that I wish I could carve off his face with a knife.
Thoughts ran thick and fast through my mind. What did i do wrong? What had I done to warrant such wrath from Evil Boss Man? What should I say? Should I apologise and admit that I am wrong when I know I am not wrong and don't even know what was wrong?
I remained composed, refusing to feel anything right now. I felt like the mechanism for emotions in my brain part had shut down – leaving me to feel nothing, to feel nonchalant. It was the only defense mechanism that I know. Now, I silently hoped it'll be enough to sustain me through yet another dressing down from Evil Boss Man.
I just wish I had not taken this freaking job in the first place. Six freaking months I've been here and never once did I receive a single praise for all the efforts I've put into my work. My commitment goes unnoticed. I tried to remain unperturbed but it just gets to me. It's so cold, heartless. Everyone's so conniving. So cunning. So devious.
If this is what life is like in this hellish environment, if that is the extend I had to go through in order to make a living among these wolves, I would rather give up my life than to be like a wolf.
I can't go on like this. I just can't. My fists clenched, sweat made my fingers and palm clammy. I ran. I hate to cave in like this. But I just can't take it anymore. And I ran – out of the office, out of that heartless atmosphere. I ran. I didn't stop until I got to the stairs. I continued to run… up twenty floors all the way up to the roof.
I pushed open the door leading to the roof and tumbled out, exhausted…gasping for breath. I cannot go on like this. I hated this job and yet, I did not know what drove me to accept it in the first place. I loosened the tie that threatened to choke me.
I stared out at the pouring sky. Feeling cold to the bone, feeling my blood pressure dropping. Feeling every fibre of my body going rigid cold.
Is this all there is to life? A 9 to 5 job that gives you nothing but a couple thousand in return for being yelled at and ordered around like a lap dog from 9 to 5? Is this what I have to wake up to at the start of everyday? I wish without fail every night to sleep and never wake up from this perennial living nightmare.
An empty life means nothing, worths nothing. I have nothing to look forward to. My life, my fate – from the time I was in my mother's womb – has been pre-determined that it would travel through this course. And it is pre-determined that I take this route… it is the only avenue available for me to escape this harsh fate.
I took one step forward with my left, stepping onto empty air. And then, I fell.
Exhilarating. I closed my eyes. I spread open my arms – welcoming the end. The wind cuts through my eyes as i opened a little to see the on-rushing pavement below.
This is the end. Here, and now.
My life. Twenty-four years of it. Flashes by like a video recording. It is finished. Today. No turning back. Wept not for a pitiful, empty soul such as I. Your sympathies, I do not deserve.