Walking With Death

Death is appealing to some people.

And it had been appealing to him…

It’s often an escape route, a way out that’s always there for them. It never leaves or disappoints them as much as the people who are supposed to love them do.

But it had disappointed him…

But society doesn’t approve; how can someone want to die? They must be mad. Insane. Stupid. …Weak.

And after the first time, people judged him…

But it’s often the strongest people who end up killing themselves because that decision will be the hardest one of their lives.

But he had felt so weak…

He had been the boy who felt he had nothing left. Who felt he was completely alone despite having a loving family and girlfriend.

His demons had haunted him to the point that he hurt himself in vain attempts to make them disappear.

Scars had covered his arms, legs, and chest; an outward clue to the turmoil inside his head.
He had felt so unwanted; unneeded; unloved…

But he had been wrong.

He had been loved.

He just hadn’t seen it because the devil on his shoulder had murdered the angel on the other.

Life had clung to him; like a disease. He had tried and tried to end his life, but it was as if he wasn’t needed up there.

Most people would have taken the failures as a sign. But he hadn’t.

He’d seen an advert on television where the Golden Gate Bridge had been in the background. And in that moment he’d known.

So he went to his room, wrote his notes, and told his mother he was going out for a while. She hadn’t thought anything of it as he had seemed to be getting better. But she hadn’t known it was all a façade that he had perfected over the years; one that had even started to fool him for a short while.

When the red structure had come into view, apt music had played through his earphones. He had been walking in a daze, the time taken to get there seeming almost non-existent.

He had started walking to the middle of the bridge, past the signs telling him the answer wasn’t death, when his mother had entered his room to collect dirty clothes at his house. And when she saw the envelopes she had known immediately what they enclosed.

On the bridge he had taken out his earphones and was climbing the red railing. No-one bothered to try and stop him. No-one even took a glance at him; just walking past minding their own business, knowing his death wouldn’t affect them.

His mother had been panicking, ringing her husband when she saw a picture of the huge San Francisco monument stuck to the fridge. She had dropped the phone and raced out the door into the car. But something inside her had told her she’d be too late. And she had been…

He had stood on top of the railing, looking down at the roiling water below. But he hadn’t felt fear. He had felt peace. And he had still felt peace when he had turned around and let himself fall backwards, closing his eyes as the air had rushed past him.

When he had hit the water he had felt relief wash over him as his demons left him and his angel came back. He had finally felt the peace he had been yearning for as he was carried down river, the water caressing his body like feathers as he was welcomed by death like an old friend.

And for the first time in as long as he could remember, he had smiled a genuine smile as he was carried into the darkness, walking with death away from the pain.

_