I Woke Up After Killing Myself

I woke up after killing myself last night.  That’s not hyperbole, I literally killed myself last night.  All the crap  and pain I’ve caused those I love culminated in a moment I’ve been fantasizing about for years.  Since I was a teenager and felt I didn’t belong, I always knew my life was worth less than those around me. I’ve always been too weak to go through with the deed because I did not want others to believe I went to Hell. So I plotted a way for my suicide to look like an accident. Yes my soul would be in Hell for my unpardonable sin, but my family will just think I was an idiot and had an unfortunate accident.

When I woke up this morning I was confused.  I jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom.  Flipping on the light switch and seeing myself in the mirror frightened me.  I had no cut. I had no bruising. I had no swelling.  No injuries to my face where I slammed it on the corner of granite counter-top.  I lifted my shirt where I knew the scissors pierced my chest – no scar. 

I seriously thought I dreamed the whole thing. 

I went to my wife’s side of the bed, nudged her and asked what happened when she got home last night from her mother’s house.  Frustratingly she huffed she is going tonight and last night she didn’t go anywhere.  She rolled over covering her head with her side of the blanket in the process. 

I chose the night she went to her mother’s for a reason. I didn’t want anyone here when it happened.  I didn’t want to be saved in case someone walked in on me.  I wanted to be sure I would not be helped in any way whatsoever. 

But this did not make sense. I went through with it last night. I should be dead.

I went online and confirmed it was the same day as when I killed myself.  I saw the same posts on Facebook and Twitter I saw - what I can only describe as yesterday.  Yet everything was exactly the same as it was then. 

Nothing has changed.

I’m still the messed up idiot who can’t get anything right.  I’m still the loser who has caused pain and regret in those I love most.  Nothing I can do can make others see me as anything other than a failure. 

My wife is at her mother’s house again. I am alone in the house again.  I’m sitting on the side of the tub exactly where I was last night. The water is on the floor for me to slip on again.  The scissors are again grasped in my right hand and the granite countertop is waiting for my face to slam into its corner again.

Maybe God gave me a second chance.

Maybe He just messed up on me again.

Maybe I’ll find out in the morning.

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Happy Anniversary

Dearest Amanda,

It has already been two years from the day we met.  I was a depressed soul working at a crap job, when an angel walked into my Starbucks and ordered a Grande Mocha.  I’ll never forget the outfit you were wearing. Your smile infected me from the very beginning.  It complemented the way you walked, the way you talked, and even the way you would scratch your nose.  Your mere presence pulled this tortured, lost wretch of a beast out of a pit of depression, drugs and suicide attempts.

It was not hard for me to put you on the pedestal you deserved and exalted all your works completed in me.  All this caused me to be repentant to my way of life prior to the day I fell in love with my savior.

It wasn’t long afterwards when I started staying over at your house.  I learned to appreciate Lifetime movies and home improvement shows from the time we spent watching TV.  During bad weather, I would be your protector and get as close as I could to protect you from the storm. Sometimes I would just watch you sleep. I liked to imagine you were dreaming of me. The reason for your continuous smile while you slumbered.

I’ve never learned so much from anyone so interesting, amazing or fun in my entire life.  You are my world, Amanda.  There is no place I would not follow you.  

Some people may try to demonize the relationship by inferring it’s temporary or superficial. They just don’t understand the relationship we genuinely share.

But something inside my head is starting to believe those accusations.  I can’t let them continue.  It will only bring me back to my lack of self-confidence.   The darkness will only plant seeds and strangle the goodness you have blossomed inside me.  We are prefect for one another.  I could never let you go, nor even think of being with anyone else besides you.

Which is why as soon as you are finished reading this letter, I will kill you - then myself. That way we can be together forever.  You can be the angel you've always been and I will never have to face the demons that once destroyed me.

Please know Amanda, I will love you forever - even if you have no idea who I am!

Happy Anniversary,

Derek.

p.s. Don’t worry. I’ve let myself in.

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Mystery Cookie

While most people dread Mondays or going to work all together, Cooper enjoys coming to work.  He hadn’t always felt this way.  He used to be cynical like a lot of his co-workers in eligibility.  They come to work with fake smiles and complaints about their significant others; but over the past ten weeks he’s overcome the depression he began to deal with after Jenn broke off their engagement.

The happiness started again with a cookie about ten weeks ago.

A single cookie was sitting on his desk one Monday morning about a month after the break-up.  Cooper had no idea where it came from.  He didn’t trust a random cookie sitting on his desk so threw it away.  The next day another cookie was waiting for him.  Again he threw it away.  After a week of cookies, he finally started to accept the gift and eat them.  

And they were delicious!

He started looking forward to coming to work because of the mystery cookie.  He always felt it was that cute clerk girl Megan, but the cookies kept coming after she was fired for assaulting that guy Russ in claims.

The cookies made him happy because it made Cooper feel appreciated again.

Cooper approached his cubicle with the same expected excitement he had every morning now.  He slung his backpack on his desk but didn’t see a cookie.

In its place was a manila envelope. Cooper was slightly disappointed but intrigued with this unexpected surprise. 

He opened the envelope and emptied its contents on his desk.  A clinging sound got his attention first as he picked up a ring that came to rest next to his keyboard.  He held it between his thumb and fingers to examine and realized it was the ring he gave Jenn when he proposed.

“What the heck??!?”

He read the accompanying note: 

“Dear Coop.  I hope you enjoyed the cookies.  I saw how upset you were after the break-up; I felt you needed hope again.  Jenn actually helped me with the cookies, well she WAS the cookies.  She turned out very sweet.   I was thinking of using some of her for your birthday cake next month.  LMK. Megan.”

Confused, Cooper flipped over a picture and vomited as he recognized Jenn’s mutilated body in the background of Megan’s selfie.

***

Taken from Writer's Digest.  The writing prompt was as follows...

One day you come into work and find a cookie mysteriously placed on your desk. Grateful to whoever left this anonymous cookie, you eat it. The next morning you come in and find another cookie. This continues for months until one day a different object is left–and this time there’s a note.

Link to Prompt.

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Steps Challenge

Russ sat in the bleachers of his daughter’s basketball game. Instead of watching his eleven year old soar over her opponents while grabbing rebounds and throwing elbows, he sifted through Google images of Atlantis on his smartphone. His company had offered up a “steps challenge” for his office. The employee with the most pedometer steps in the office gets an all-expense paid trip for two to the Bahamian resort.

They weren’t in the best financial situation when they got married twelve years ago, so they couldn’t afford a honeymoon. They got pregnant with Laura a few months later; then over the next eleven years four more kids arrived. The finances never got any better – they managed to keep their head above water over the past decade, but that honeymoon never came.

This trip was going to be his and this was going to be the honeymoon his wife, Christine always wanted.

“What are you doing?!?!” Christine chastised while hitting Russ in his knee.

“Owww.. What??”

Russ hurt his knee with this challenge. He was walking in the wooded area behind the office on Wednesday when he stepped in a hole and banged up his knee pretty good. He didn’t tell Christine about the challenge nor the knee because it would have brought up too many questions.

“Your daughter is out there playing like an all-star and you’re on your phone!!!”

“Okay okay okay.. I’m done anyways.”

Russ put away his phone but was still focusing on the pictures of Atlantis in his mind. He also focused on the leader board in his office. Megan was about four thousand steps ahead of him on Friday. He worked claims while she was the office clerk. Her job description gave her the reason to walk and walk and walk.

Russ secretly despised Megan. The twenty-two year old recent college graduate doesn’t need to go to the Bahamas. What does she have to get away from? Selfies on SnapChat? Her stupid old beagle named “Buddy”? He’s got kids. He deserves this vacation. She’s got plenty of years to go to Atlantis, Russ tried to justify.

Since he hurt his knee he hadn’t been able to walk as much and his count suffered. Megan was able to catch up and pass him because of the injury. Russ also noted she didn’t do a lot of walking on weekends and it was his time to catch up. Yet he wasn’t able to because of this stupid knee. The final step count would be turned in tomorrow morning at 8 AM and all Russ would have are these Google Images of the Bahamas. He hated he’d have to hear about the bathing suits and cute lifeguards from Megan.

Oh how he despised her.

The buzzer sounded and the game was over. He and his family cheered for his daughter’s winning team. He gingerly made his way down the bleachers to embrace his daughter.

“Excellent job, Ladybug!”

“Thanks” an out of breath Laura said while guzzling down some water.

Russ hugged his daughter and pulled something from her waistband.

While other family members congratulated her, Russ looked at the pedometer he removed from his daughter’s shorts. Seven thousand steps added to his count. Hello Atlantis. Let’s see her stupid old beagle get that many this weekend.

***

Taken from Writer's Digest.  The writing prompt was as follows...

In an effort to improve the health of the office, your company has issued a steps challenge—who can take the most steps in a week. The winner gets a free trip to the Bahamas (something you are determined to win). It’s come down to the final day and it’s between you and one other person in your office—and that person keeps trying to sabotage you.  What happens and who wins?

Link to Prompt.

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Rebecca

    Rebecca hates what she has become. This occupation, if you can call it one, certainly has its perks.  The pay is great, she makes her own hours, and she travels abroad.  She is good at what she does and because of this, clients pass her name around to enlist her services. She has attended state dinners with members of Congress.  On numerous occasions she has had front row seats to the Academy Awards.  Executive officers of major companies have her number on speed dial.  Her numerous checking accounts have no less than six-figures in each one.  All of the houses and cars she owns are paid in cash at the time of purchase with nothing traceable back to her.  With all this access to power and influence you would believe she enjoys being an empowered and accomplished individual in her industry.  Yet through the years, this job has eaten away at her soul. The morals she once held onto growing up in San Antonio are almost non-existent.  It is to the point she has to vomit before each meeting in order to regain her composure.  

    It was the same way when Rebecca started in this career.  She would have to pretend to be someone or something that really was not her.  It got easier after a while.  She began to convince herself this job was the only way to make ends meet. The better she became at her job, the easier it was to convince herself she was not doing anything wrong. Back home in Texas, her family believes her to be a consultant.  Rebecca tries to avoid detailed questions when asked about her job. She usually provides them with a vague description of a recent trip to Los Angeles or Chicago.  Name dropping someone currently trending in the news keeps them off her back for any more details.  The truth is she dropped out of college two months before graduation. She was burnt out from working and studying so hard to understand the subject; only to barely pass the assignments or exams.  She wasn’t able to secure an internship, and no company wanted to hire someone who was barely going to graduate.  So she gave up everything she worked for and quit school.  Rebecca needed money and could not face her family, so she made the decision to enlist in the military. Unlike college, she excelled in every category and was top of her class. She trained in various fields and even had combat experience, but was injured during a training exercise and discharged. Unemployed, Rebecca needed money yet again and going to her family was not an option.  A friend told her about a company looking for available women, but warned her it wasn’t the most legitimate of professions. Seven years later, the rest is history.
    It’s almost midnight on a Saturday, and Rebecca gracefully walks towards the revolving doors of the five-star Manhattan hotel.  Even at this hour, the courtyard is full of guests and visitors in route to nightclubs, after parties or one of a dozen nearby establishments that offer illegal services she knows very well.  As some individuals and couples pass Rebecca, they can’t help but stare.  She feels judgment coming from behind their eyes.  Rebecca cannot help but think if they know why she is there.

“Has it become that obvious? What do they know about me anyways?  Even if they are right, screw them for their judgmental thoughts and stares!”

    Rebecca stops before the doors and peers at herself in the window.  She looks closer to try and recognize the person looking back at her.  Staring intently at her reflection, Rebecca sees someone she does not recognize.  The long blue evening gown, black heels with matching purse did nothing but compliment her beauty.  Yet she instantly begins to pass judgment.  Feelings of repeated punches to her gut cause her to throw up in a flower bed.  The thought of not going through with this crosses her mind while she wipes her mouth. She could run. She could disappear.  Yet the profession is all she knows now.   This type of job is not really something you can put on a resume when applying to be a sales associate at the mall.  While she has grown to hate what will eventually happen tonight; she looks forward to knowing this is going to be all over in less than an hour.

“Yet I’ll be back in this same situation before I know it.”

    Rebecca enters the lobby of the hotel and pauses to take a look around. She turns and walks towards the noises coming from the hotel bar.  Standing at the entrance of the bar, she scans the room looking for her contact.  Tasting vomit still in her mouth, she reaches into her purse and pulls out a breath mint. She is able to compose herself before she breaks down again. While adjusting her purse strap she hears someone call out to her.
"Miss Moreno?”

    Rebecca looks up and makes eye contact with a well-dressed gentleman.  Standing taller than her, the well-dressed gentleman raises an eyebrow waiting for a reply.

“Miss Moreno?”

“Yes?”

    She has never used this particular name before.  It is surprising she remembers the name at all with all the ones she has gone by.   Sometimes she uses names the clients suggest, other times she comes up with names herself.  “Miss Moreno” was her eleventh grade Marine Science teacher.  Rebecca always thought “Alejandra Moreno” was the most exotic name she has ever heard.  An exotic name is what she needed for this particular job.
"The Ambassador is ready for you, please follow me."
         Well-dressed Man leads Rebecca through the bar to a booth in the corner bathed in shadows. A rotund man scoots out from behind the table and stands.  Rebecca smiles when her eyes meet the Ambassador's.  The Ambassador grabs her right hand, and kisses it gently.

"Good evening, Ambassador.  It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

“The pleasure is mine, Ms. Moreno. Come. Join me please."
    Rebecca accepts the offer and sits on his side of the booth. While the well-dressed man stands a few feet away from the booth with his back to the couple. Reading the profile of the Ambassador, Rebecca knew he was a large man, but she did not know he was morbidly obese. He dresses the way one might in this position of government, but his girth and appearance physically disgust Rebecca.  She courtesy laughs at a joke the Ambassador tells to show interest in him and it works.  The Ambassador laughs at the joke too and puts his hand on Rebecca’s exposed thigh. Her stomach turns and she belittles him with her thoughts.
“Get your hand off me you fat sack of pudding.”
    If she could get away with it out here, she would stab him in the eye with his salad fork. She just smiles and keeps the Ambassador happy.
"Mister Ambassador, you don't want to buy your date a drink first?"
    The Ambassador chuckles and calls to the well-dressed man, "Henri, get Miss Moreno a drink."

“Yes sir, right away.”
    Henri leaves the area and the Ambassador leans closer to Rebecca.  It takes a lot of energy not to cough from his smell. His breath reeks of alcohol and calling it malodorous would be an insult to foul smelling odors.  Likely due to the alcohol and Rebecca’s slight flirtations, the Ambassador wastes no time trying to take advantage of his date.  He runs his fat chubby digits through her red hair.
“Think of the money. Think of the money. Damnit!! No amount of money is worth this deprecation.”

    This is an Ambassador though. Other men she has met through this position have been high ranking officials, but no one the stature of the Ambassador.  If she is able to satisfy her client, she would have carte blanche to any client she wants.  She would be the top with her employers.  Rebecca holds back vomit once more.  She wants this over and over quickly.

"Mister Ambassador, I'm not real thirsty. Do you mind if we skip the drinks and head to your room? Hopefully get to the point of this rendezvous."
"Oh, you sly vixen!  Just let me inform Henri of our intentions..."

"Don't bother Henri.  He's a smart man; he knows where you'll be."
    Rebecca knew with the Ambassador’s current condition, she didn't have to make a clear cogent argument. It made completing her job that much easier actually.
"No wonder you're so highly recommended.  You get right to the point.”
    Even with a woman as beautiful as Rebecca being seen with a large man like the Ambassador; they are able to sneak away from the bar without drawing any unwanted attention to themselves.  They make their way to elevator and up to his presidential suite; the entire time with Rebecca feigning flirtation by fighting off his advances.
"Wait until the room, sir.  We don't want to call any unwarranted attention to ourselves."
    It takes few tries for the keycard to work, but by the time they get to the room his slacks are around his ankles. Rebecca playfully teases him as he stumbles through the room.
"You're not wasting time are you Mister Ambassador?  Go over to the bed!"

The Ambassador complies as Rebecca opens her purse.  Her smile changes to a smirk as she pulls out a small pistol and silencer.  She quickly screws on the cylinder and points her weapon at the Ambassador.
"There's just one more thing you bulbous ass…"
    Rebecca's arm remains outstretched and vomit rises up from her stomach.  The Ambassador trips backwards onto the king size bed.  Rebecca does not know if it’s from his inebriation or an involuntary reflex to avoid being shot.

“Miss Moreno?  What is this?”

    She tries hard to pull the trigger, but her muscles will not let her.  The vomit reaches her mouth and she can’t help but to hurl on the hotel carpet between her and the Ambassador.

“What the hell is happening?  This has become second nature to me, why can’t I kill this fat drunkard?”

    The Ambassador tries to rush Rebecca, but she comes back to her senses in time to smash the butt of her pistol to bridge of his nose.  The Ambassador moans out in pain as he covers his nose and stumbles back onto the bed.  Rebecca does not know what is currently going on with her senses, but for the first time in a long time, she does not want to kill this individual.  He probably deserves it for whatever crisis he helped cause, but this fat bastard just helped Rebecca realize she doesn’t have the right to be the paid executioner.  She puts the gun back in her purse, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and approaches the Ambassador grabbing him by his bloody tie.

“I don’t know what storm you are responsible for to have someone hire me and take you out, but you made me realize this job isn’t worth it.  Consider this your second chance.  Whoever wants you dead is going to send someone else after I leave.  You either better quit what you’re doing, or get better security.  Because when I don’t check in tonight, they’re going to know something is up and send someone else.  Do you understand me?”

    The Ambassador nods his head in agreement and Rebecca lets go of his tie.  She turns her back to him, adjusts her purse and walks out the door. She presses the call button and waits.  Taking a mint out of her purse she can’t help but smile.  The elevator doors open as she enters the car and presses the button for the lobby.  Her thoughts shift to which untraceable house she is going to be hiding out in for the next couple years.  She sees her reflection in the bronze doors of the elevator and for the first time in a long time Rebecca recognizes the person staring back at her.

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1:08

Jacques stood at the corner of 8th and Linus facing north into the park.  He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time.  

1:08

But he already knew that.  

He took a breath and even said a quick prayer.  He let out a slight chuckle because he had never thought of doing that before.  Maybe this time will be different.   Maybe it will change things.  It was worth a shot.  He didn't have much time.  He walked into Rogers Park in the direction of the benches near the knolls.  

This scene has played out many times before.  This time had to be different.  This time had to be the one.  He was going to do what he felt needed to be done and then hope for the best.  

Off in the distance he could see her.  His window of opportunity was short and he had to get to her without interruption.  

From the left a homeless man came up to Jacques.

"Sir, can you spare some loose......"

"Here you go Reggie..." Jacques hands over his wallet before Reggie could even finish his sentence.  He hopped over the log border, started off into a sprint and stopped a few yards from her.  There she sat on a park bench reading a book.  She was beautiful.  He's never seen her any other way.  He slowly approached her as she moved her bangs behind her left ear, licked her middle finger, turned the page, uncrossed her legs and placed her left leg over the right one.

He stood awkwardly, and softly called out to her, "Katherine?"

Katherine looked up and held her hand up to block the sun, "Yes?"

"Hi.  My name is Jacques. Jacques Copeland."

"Do I know you?"

"Currently, no.   In the sense of the meta-physical universe, you know all about me and I know all about you.  Look, I know you don't understand, but do you mind if I sit next to you?  I swear I mean you know harm."

"I don't know."

"If it makes you feel safer, there's going to be a couple of cops walking around the corner in a couple seconds."

"How do you???"

Just like Jacques promised, two park and wildlife police officers in conversation walk around the corner and stop by a nearby table.

"How??  How did you??"

Jacques sighed and took a breath, "I've always hoped the explanation would somehow remain.  It takes up precious time.  If you can believe it or not, I am living the same fifty-two minutes over and over again.  We've had this conversation and some derivative of it numerous times.  I'm stuck in time loop, for a reason I've not come close to understanding."

"I think I should leave."

"I knew you were going to say that.  You ALWAYS say that! But Katherine, we've sat on this bench for countless minutes talking to one another.  We've gotten to know one another.  I know your name is Katherine Rhodes.  You're twenty-seven years old and a pharmacy technician.  You called in sick today and came here to read.  It reminds you of your parents.  They've been gone six years.  You like peanut butter but not jelly.  You prefer your mashed potatoes prepared with the skin still on.  You enjoy tea with extra lemon.  You've been to every continental state and have a picture from each state in a mural on your living room.

So you've told me.

You've also been hurt before.  In such a way you can never really open up to a man your innermost feelings and dreams."

"I don't ever remember meeting you."

"You never do.  No one ever does.  Just myself.  Everyone goes back to doing what they were doing when it starts.  At two o’clock, everyone leaves, and I return to one-oh-eight and have to relive this over and over again.  In the span of countless fifty-two minutes over and over, I've witnessed and learned things that other's forget.  But none of that really matters.  The only thing that matters is what I've come here to tell you. "

Katherine stared right into Jacques' eyes.

"I love you Katherine.  I love you.  I want to say I've loved you from the time I first laid eyes on you, but it's been so long and I've wanted to tell you so many times.  But not every meeting comes out the same.  I only have a short amount of time for you to fall in love with me, but right now it doesn't matter. It can be fate, course correction, or I'm just a lucky guy to be able to spend as much time with you as I have.  But I fully believe that the whole point of this... this event. Is because of us.  God.  The Universe.  Whatever wants me to get it right.  It wants me to open up to you just like you've opened up to me little by little over the course of, I don't know how long I've been doing this.  It wants me to tell you that you can be loved, Katherine.  That you can be loved by me and we can beat this thing and when it turns 2:01 we're still going to be here together and we're going to cherish each moment afterwards."

Katherine took a second to comprehend it all.

"If what you say is true and you really do know all this about me.  Have you ever tried this before?  This... This confession?"

"No.  This is the first time.  I've never told you how I've felt.  I realized I was holding that back when we've disclosed ourselves to each other over the..... What I can only assume have been years I've been meeting you here."

"Years?"

"Years."

"If it's only fifty-two minutes when do you sleep?"

"I usually just go to a park bench and sleep until the next reset."

"And during these 'resets' you go back fifty-two minutes in time??"

"Yes, to the exact geographical point I was at 1:08."

"And you're the only one that remembers?"

"As far as I know.  Everyone is doing what they were doing fifty-two minutes prior as well with no recollection of what just transpired."

"What all have you done?  Seen?"

"A lot!  There's only so much you can get accomplished in 52 minutes.  So it's been pretty much all been legal." 

Katherine sat there, trying to take it all in.  It was all new to her.  This man, new to her.  But he knew all about her.  He knew things little things only those close to her knew.  She didn't want to be hurt, but she didn't think she could not at least take the chance.

"All right.  I believe you.  I believe everything."

"Oh, Katherine!"

Jacques leaned forward, embraced her and squeezed her tight.

"You better not be a psycho!"

Jacques laughed, "No."

Katherine embraced him as well.  A genuine smile crossed his lips as he closed his eyes finally feeling safe for the first time in.... in a very long time.

He opened his eyes and Jacques is standing on the corner of 8th and Linus facing north into the park.  He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time.  

1:08

But he already knew that.  

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My Dearest Amanda

June 13th

My Dearest Amanda,

It’s been two years to the day we met.  I was a depressed soul working at a crap job, when an angelic being walked into my Starbucks and ordered a Grande Mocha Frapaccino.  Your smile was infectious from the very beginning.  It complemented the way you walked, you talked, and even the way you would scratch your nose.  Your presence pulled this tortured and lost wretch of a beast out of a pit of depression, drugs and nights of wishing I would die.  It was not hard for me to put you on the pedestal you deserved and exalted your works completed in me.  All this caused me to be repentant to my way of life prior to June thirteenth.  I was in love with my savior.

It wasn’t long after when I started staying over at your house.  I learned to appreciate Lifetime movies from all the the time we spent watching TV.  During bad weather, I would be your protector and get as close as I could to try and protect you from the sounds of hail banging against the patio cover.

Sometimes I would just watch you sleep.  I liked to imagine you were dreaming of me and the reason for your continuous smile while you slumbered.  I’ve never learned so much from anyone so interesting or fun in my entire life.

You are my world, Amanda.  There is no place I would not follow you.  Some people may try to demonize the relationship by inferring it’s only temporary or superficial; I ignore the naysayers.  They just don’t understand the relationship we genuinely share.

But something inside my head is starting to believe those accusations.  I can’t let them continue.  Which is why as soon as you are finished reading this letter, I will kill you.

Remember I will always love you, even if you have no idea who I am.

Love Always,
Derek.

p.s.  Don’t worry, I’ll let myself in.

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