Towards the End

It was towards the end when she realised she was grateful. She suddenly realised that what she had done had been her biggest achievement of all time and that now the children were taken care of she could finally put her head to rest.

Goodbye Cruel World had been a game she used to play with her brother by the pool in the summer on their family holidays. They would take it in turns to shout out, “Goodbye cruel world” and jump or fall or belly flop in to the cool crystal clear water. Then they would play dead and rise to the surface like a corpse in a lake and lie there, dormant for as long as they could hold their breath. She never thought she would ever be playing it for real, if playing it was how you would describe her selfish act, or maybe it was a selfless act. Only time would tell.

As she kissed her two children good night and put the book the three of them were attempting to read back on the book shelf, she stood and watched the two small bodies wriggle in to a comfortable position underneath their duvets and then settle into sleep. She stood there for just under two minutes, watching and waiting for something but not knowing what she was waiting for, a sign maybe? A sign that would tell her what she was about to do was not the right thing. But nothing came to mind. God did nothing to stop it. Maybe there was no God?

She turned and left her children to their deep slumber and closed the door to their lives behind her. Her love was fading. Shadows were beginning to appear on the insides of her soul and the eerie feeling she had inside of herself was becoming more and more prominent. She had to do something about it.

Somehow she had always known her life would turn out this way. A disappointment to herself and to those around her. Everyone had had high hopes for such a shining star; she was bright, funny, intelligent and vaguely pretty. But there was just something in herself that prevented her from being that shining star in the sky. She just never turned out the way others had hoped.

She used to tell lies, fabricate the truth to make life that little bit more exciting, that little bit more interesting for herself. But no matter what she said or did it was always the same, she was nobody and nobody noticed her outside of the box that she was trapped in. Her mundane life was torture to her raging soul and the anger she felt inside went unheard. Her silent army went on, trudging the streets of her corpse like life and dragging their feet through her blood like a muddy trail after battle.

She looked back at the door to her children’s bedroom and considered opening it again and crawling into bed with Gemma, snuggling up with the four year old and feeling her small heart beat against her ear. But God would not allow this, he gave her no sign and she was left to walk away. When the initial horror was over with they would wake to a new chapter in their lives, they would have to grow up quickly and they would have to be strong, stronger than she could ever be. They would have to find something deep within them that she never had; something that would make them into brave people. Although it could be considered that what she was doing was a brave and almighty self-righteous act that the people around her would never understand.

It was time to get ready.

It was near the end that she decided she should have left a note. She should have done the ironing and she should have made her last few moments last a little longer. More importantly she should have left something to explain why she had felt the need to do what she was about to do. So far there was nothing and questions would be asked and she would not be there to answer any of them.

Towards the end she realised in her calmness that she was at last happy. It was the sort of happiness that child birth had brought her, albeit briefly when she held her first born in her arms and she had felt, although exhausted, elated and at peace.

Then post natal depression hit and then it was just depression, and then it was as if her life had ended before it had begun. As if one child wasn’t enough the imbecile wanted her to pop out another one, like she was a pinball machine, and not wanting to cause an argument she did. When that feeling of elation and joy returned at the birth of her baby boy no writer could possibly put into words what she had felt for that tiny being; when it clutched at her index finger with all five of its own and no one could ever imagine the pain she felt when it passed away three days later. It was two years before she discovered she was pregnant again and when post natal depression and paranoia struck for a second time divorce hit the cards and the giant spiral of unhappiness descended upon her and her life would never be the same again, she would never quite manage to pull herself out of the hole she had fallen into, and she would never feel that same sense of tenderness and love for her children she had felt when they were first born. Her love had faded and a black shadow moved when she moved, like death bearing over his next unlucky victim. But she never felt unlucky. Death seemed to be the only thing he was good at.

She desired so much to inflict the pain on to others that had been inflicted on to her but with no means of doing so she inflicted more emotional and punishing pain onto herself. Even the pictures her children brought home from school didn’t please her, where other mothers would bathe in the talents of their off spring, all she did was pray they didn’t end up like her.

As the end drew closer she could begin to feel the cold hands of death creeping around her neck. But that wasn’t how it would end, it would be much worse than that.

Someone once told her that towards the end of your life, just as you are about to die, your life plays out to you in quick small flashes, the best bits and the worst. Your achievements and your failures. Your loves and your losses. She wondered what she would see before the lights went out and she wondered what would become of her soul now that she was doing the unthinkable.

Towards the beginning of the end she realised she didn’t feel as bad as she usually felt. That sense of elation and pride in the family she had created was returning. And when she looked at the photograph of herself with her two young children she smiled. For the first time in years she really smiled. She looked away from the photograph and at the cupboard readily prepared with the path that would end her miserable existence.

This was what she wanted, this was what everyone wanted. Perhaps this was the way her life had been mapped out. God wasn’t putting a stop to any of it and it was about time she took responsibility for herself and what she had lost. Something needed her more.

While she drove to the lake she listened to the same song over and over on the CD player. It soothed her aching head and kept her mind from wandering. She had to focus or else it could all end before it had even got started.

She had always admired the likes of Kurt Cobain and River Phoenix, Virginia Woolf and Don Carpenter. They had backbone. They paved the way for the likes of the herself. They demonstrated to the people in the world who were hopeless romantics that even if you were the most successful in your field, even if you had reached the tip of your calling, even if you had everything money could buy and you were reaching out to millions of people worldwide, even then you might just realise that it doesn’t bring you happiness and that there is something out there in the next life that needs you more.

After years of turmoil, after years of self discovery and journeys that no one really wanted to go on, she had finally reached her goal and she had realised her potential. Her children didn’t need her. They were better off alone. They were better off meeting her somewhere in the next life.

She’d left the gas leaking into the house all day and denied she could smell it when her children pointed it out. Knowing that one of them would wake in the middle of the night needing her or needing the toilet she had left instructions that under no circumstances should the lights be switched on. Knowing that Kieran’s sense of wonder and curiosity would get the better of him she knew he would flick that switch and the house would be up in flames in a matter of a seconds. But her life was not to end this way. Her life was to end differently.

As she tied the cement blocks to her feet and entwined the string she had attached them to with her shoe laces she looked up at the clear night sky and smiled to herself. Any second now. It was time to play Goodbye Cruel World.
She could hear the round of applause from the angels above her. As she climbed on to the edge of the bridge she balanced the cement blocks underneath her arms and looked up at the sky.

“Goodbye cruel world!” she yelled into the sky throwing her arms up into the air, the cement blocks fell over the edge of the bridge and pulled her over with them, she hit the ice cold water with a gasp and as she was dragged to the bottom of the lake she fought with all her might for air but it was too late, the damage had been done and now God was talking.

And as her lungs filled with water her life slipped away. Along with the lives of her children.