My choice

   Everything had to be done properly and n the most orderly fashion possible. No loose ends of any type. The first thing was to be sure that I wanted to do it and that was a resounding “yes”, from the very start. The normal thing would be for one to be scared or not sure that that’s the way to go. But I had been thinking about it for so long, that it made o sense to me to do anything else than that. So the first thing was off the table and that made me feel a little bit better about the whole thing.

 Then, planning had to start. Again, I didn’t want to make it messy, I wanted it to be done right, to make people think about what I was thinking and how I felt the moment I did it. It’s not that I wanted anyone to get hurt, but I did want to make them think. You cannot do these things and suddenly forget all of the symbolism such an event had all over it. So I needed to plan everything to the second, even if that meant thinking about it all the time. It was a test to my resolve.

 The supermarket was my first destination. I bought so many things; the cashier girl thought I was a little bit insane. The final tally was very expensive, but I didn’t mind at all, Money had stopped having any importance for me and the plan was all that matter. It was important to make it all as I had imagined so I couldn’t shy away from doing things just because they were expensive or almost impossible in the eyes of most people. I needed to do what I had to do, right then.

 When I came back home with all the things I had bought, I moved on to the second part of my plan: had to cancel everything with my name on it: every credit card, every bank account, every subscription to a magazine or to some email newsletters. Everything had to go. Of course, I couldn’t do all of this in one day but it was very important to just start and get it going. I think that was one of the most difficult things to do in the whole process, before talking to my family of course.

 Friends were very few and a couple of phone calls would be easy to make. But calling my family or talking to them in person was going to be very difficult. I didn’t know if I would be able to stare at them as I talked. Maybe it was better to just stare at the ground and hope for the best. I guess that’s why I kept postponing doing that. It wasn’t really necessary to be honest, but I had always felt hat I owe my family for every single thing they had ever given to me. So the natural thing, specially in this case, was for me to speak to them frankly and without shame,

 Anyway, I left that for the last week. The next few days, I just enjoyed myself thoroughly. I did a number of things I had never done. That was a huge rush, a feeling that made me think that my decision was the right one. I never doubted it for a second and I think many people, in retrospective, think that I was crazy because of that way to react. They thought I should’ve been in the bottom of a well or something like that, nor running around as happy as I had never been before.

 Yes, it was disturbing to me too, but that doesn’t mean it was an improper way to feel. It just meant that I was certain of my decision and that is a very powerful thing. How many people are really certain of the choices they make? How many people doubt once they have decided on something that will undoubtedly change the course of their lives forever? It’s an obvious thing, to doubt and to feel the need to correct oneself. But I never felt that and I’m not ashamed.

 Those days, about two weeks to be exact, were one of the best times in my life and that’s exactly how I wanted it to be. Talking to my friends was not as hard as I thought, maybe because they weren’t many. Of course, they first opposed my decision; they cried and even quarreled with me for a while. But after venting everything, they realized it made sense. Every single part of my plan made sense to them and that made them realize I was right, even if they didn’t agree with everything.

 We had a long good time together, in my house. I invited them offer for a sleepover. We watched lots of movies, ate everything we wanted, talked trash about people we all knew and analyzed our past in the funniest ways. We did avoid talking about the main subject but eventually we just held each other and they supported me. It was obviously very difficult for them but they decided to accept my decision because they understood the reasoning behind it and they couldn’t really defy it.

 There were some moments during those days in which I felt extremely alone. Of course, my determination didn’t really change because of that, on the contrary. But for some silly reason,  I thought that because of my decision, all those strange feelings would go away. I actually thought that fear would go away and just stop harassing me. But I guess fear is too strong of a feeling and there’s no real way of stopping it. After all, it’s the feeling that commands you to do so many things that you would otherwise never do. I found it all very interesting.

 When the day came, I was actually very calm about it. I ran my last errands, disconnected by phone and threw away my cellphone. Then, I drove my car to the most beautiful spot I knew, one that overlook the city and there I waited for the sun to go down. It was strange to me how not even birds interrupted my moment. It seemed that the universe had agreed that my decision was correct and that nothing should interrupt what I had decided to do. It was very beautiful, in way.

 I spent all night there, in the pitch-black night, hearing the sounds of the forest and of the city that was just below. During that time, I decided to reminisce about all the things that I had loved about myself and others. I could choose some of those memories rather easily, others were a little bit harder to find. But I spent all night thinking about them and about me and I think that was the perfect thing to do right then. Nothing would have been better, that’s what I feel at least.

 Then, just before the break of dawn, I pulled out a little bottle out of my jacket, opened it, and drank all of its content without hesitating for a second. The taste was very bitter at the start and very sweet at the end. I threw the bottle far way and then just laid down over the hood of my car, watching the last few stars of the night being chased by sunlight. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life and, probably, one of the last things I would ever see with my own two eyes.

 I think it took my body about ten more minutes to die after that. It was as if every single machine working inside me was shutting down. Every single factory inside, the stomach, the liver, the lungs, they were all turning off their machines, ending production for good. I didn’t get scared in the last moment; I didn’t feel remorse or anything like that. If anything, I thought that I had finally gotten what I needed. It had been my choice and it had been the right one, I knew it.

 I died fast. My body was found later that day. I asked for them, my family, to cremate my body and throw the ashes away somewhere nice. They did exactly that and I’m grateful to them even now. They were my rock all along, my reason to live.

 Some said afterwards that I was very young and that I had no right to die like I did, by choice. But I think they have only live their lives. So they don’t know what it’s like for other people, they forget life is more than just one thing. And one thing it isn’t, is fair.

Waste of space

   Every day was almost exactly the same. He would wake up, have something to eat, then shower, look for a job and then lunch. After that, it would be hours and hours of basically nothing until dinner. At night and in the morning he would exercise a bit and before going to bed he would watch something, like a movie or whatever was available. That was life like for him, even after he had decided it would be different. His decisions in life had amounted to nothing and he didn’t know what to do.

 He had been living there for almost a year and nothing had happened, nothing at all. Not a single change since his arrival. He tried to keep it different by distracting himself with movie or by going out to walk around the city, but that didn’t change anything either. It was a perpetual movement he was trapped in, a series of actions he repeated every single day, every week and every single month, no matter the little differences like weather or things like that. Things didn’t change.

 He had tried to change them. He had really tried but he soon realized that one person couldn’t really change the world. Whoever had said that in the past was wrong. A single lonely human couldn’t change a thing in this world. Every major shift had to involve lots of people with a common goal and a certain organization. And he didn’t have that at all. He was alone and he depended on his parents for survival. They weren’t happy for him or anything, but they felt they couldn’t refuse him help.

 The money he received as an allowance was used very carefully to pay for the apartment, the bills and the food. Those were the normal expenses. He sometimes used the money for distractions, going out and that sort of thing. In those instances he would have to remember that he was taking money away for his food. He never minded. Besides, it wasn’t something he did often; on the contrary, he managed his money in the most careful way because it was just enough to survive.

 But that was the thing: he had been thinking for a long time if it was worth it to keep on living as he was. He was draining money from his parents every month, he was sitting on his ass doing nothing, except getting older and older people have a harder time getting a job. But no one was giving him a job, not now or before. Not when he was recently graduated or after his various years of studies all over the place. They had never acknowledged him as a nothing more than a man that could pick up a phone or move boxes from one place to the other.

 The money he earned for such jobs disappeared very fast. Most of it was taken away by the health service they provided, which he never used. And the rest was used to pay debts or bills. Nothing remained. Those times, whoever, he could grab a little more from his parents money in order to have fun, even for a short period of time. He would get drunk, go out and party and just forget about everything in his life and who he was. He lost himself every time or at least he tried.

 He loved going out to dark places with loud music, wherever they could have alcohol. He even tried drugs a couple of times but it wasn’t his thing. The point of it all was forgetting his life, which was pathetic and sad. He was a leech and a waste of space. He remembered that expression once and it had gotten stuck on his head since then because it described so well what he thought of his place in life. He did feel as if he was a waste of space and would have loved it to be different.

 But it wasn’t things are as they are and one’s blind optimism cannot change that. People want every single person in the world to think blindly that everything is going to be ok but the reality of life is that probably nothing will be ok. The world itself is more and more violent, not a hospitable place for actual life to develop. So why should people be blind to that? Why should be people avoid the truth, instead of embracing it and maybe then find a solution for whatever the problem is?

 Many times, he looked around his house and carefully planned his last day on Earth. It was kind of like a game he played with himself when things where a its lowest. He would imagine cutting his wrists on the tub and having one of those almost artistic deaths, with the blood tainting the water slowly and also spilling gently to the floor. It looked almost like a romantic thing inside his head. But it would take too long and that wasn’t something he was very eager about.

 He imagined many other outcomes for his life. Some more admittedly violent and graphic but others were even more subtle that the one in the tub. He had a great imagination, which he used laying on his bed, waiting for someone to respond to his calls looking for one of the many menial jobs the world had to offer. He had realized a while ago that no one was going to give him a good job where he could feel like a real person. He was apparently built to be a slave and he had decided he didn’t mind at all, it was his destiny all along and that was settled.

 Sure enough, he had two jobs latter on: one as part of the cleaning crew in a hospital and another one in a supermarket, doing basically the same thing. He would break his back for a pay that was laughable but there was nothing else to do. However, he decided one day to ask his parents not to send him any more money. They did ask him “why” but he never answered, so they just did as they were told and the subject never came up again, in telephone conversations or when he visited, which was rare.

He had decided he would survive with whatever he had. His meals were greatly reduced and he had to move to another apartment, one even smaller in a much uglier part of the city. He sold some of his belongings too, in order to pay for the first couple of months. He tried to set aside something every month for pleasure, such as alcohol or whatever he would be in the mood for. Those small moments were not of joy but of quiet and a certain peace, which he still enjoyed.

 After some months living his new life, he got very sick with the flu. He stopped earning money for almost three weeks. When the disease didn’t kill him, the lack of food almost did. He actually had to be rushed into the hospital but he escaped it as soon as he could because he didn’t have the money to pay for a hospital bed. He just bought bread and medicine and hoped for the best. He was fired from the hospital he worked in but kept the supermarket job, where they raised his salary a bit in order to make him do more stuff.

 As always, he didn’t really mind. He got better, or just about, and start working harder every day. The hours were longer than before and this time he had to work every single day of the week but at least he was distracted by something. He didn’t have time to ponder or think about what could have been or what the future may hold for him. Those were empty questions now and no one care about the answers. He had lost the will to rebel in any way. He just lived, if that’s what it’s called.

 He was eventually fired from that job too. Not long after that, he decided to jump off a bridge that passed over a highway. His parents had nothing to keep from him anymore, as he had sold almost everything except and old notebook he had kept from when he was young, Inside, he had written a number of stories and he had also drawn lots of characters and abstract figures. They took one look at it and then stored it away somewhere. The man became a memory and, after his parents died, it was as if he had never existed on this Earth.

Tip of the iceberg

      The metal door opened up with a “bang”. Carter was holding her gun upwards. She looked to her right and to her left and walked slowly, trying not to miss whatever she was supposed to found there. The day was perfect, almost no clouds in the sky and a shiny sun glistening above her head. She was wearing the uniform and sunglasses, as she was very sensitive to light. As she walked, more like a crab than like a human, the sound of several police patrols could be heard on that rooftop. They were possibly trying to contact Carter but she had left Johnson downstairs and had made him promise he wouldn’t let anyone in until she was done with the criminal. Johnson was younger and eager to help. He was kind of the ideal partner.

 Finally, Carter saw Frost sitting on the edge, looking at the office building in the distance. As she grew closer, she noticed he had no gun, no weapon to defend his life. She had a bad feeling about all of it and made a full stop when Frost talked in a loud and clear voice:

     - Your gun is not necessary. You can come closer but leave your gun somewhere over        that vent. – He indicated one pipe that had a cubic shape.

 Carter held her gun for a few more minutes until she realized the best thing to do was to follow his advice. She left the gun on one side of the small vent and then, slowly, walked up to the criminal. He didn’t stand or looked at her, he just spoke from his seat.

     -  I guess you are aware that I lured you to this rooftop?

 Yes, Carter knew that. It had been obvious from the beginning that he wanted to be caught, that he wanted someone to notice where he was and Carter had been the first and only one to realize what he had meant. Frost had sent a letter to many newspapers, each one very different but having a secret hidden among the letters. Being an avid reader, Carter was able to break Frost’s code and know where he was going to be next. However, she had made the mistake of leaving a note on her desk about it and now every member of the police was there.

     - Poor Johnson. He’s not that strong. – Said Frost, looking down.

 Carter got nearer and looked over the edge. She could see a large group of men dressed in blue and they seemed to be arguing. Her eyesight was not so good but she thought they were talking about how to get in. Johnson had probably locked the door, blocking their entry for some time. Frost was right, Johnson was too young, to new to know how to handle these kinds of situations.

 Frost finally turned around and looked at Carter. She pulled back a bit, scared by his scar. He had a large scar running from the left corner of his mouth to his ear. He smiled, which made him look insane, much more evil than she knew he was.

     - I am sorry. Enemies try to make their marks you know?

 He didn’t wait for an answer from Carter, who was too scared o say a single word. The man stood up fast, putting his legs with agility over the edge of the building and standing up, revealing that he had been seating on a big envelope, the kind they used at office for reports and so on. Carter’s scared face changed to a curious one. She thought, for a moment, that he was inviting to grab the envelope but then realized he was just taking his time and letting her see what he wanted her to see. He took the envelope and pulled out one random paper. Carter could see it had a big seal on top of the page.

      - This is from Saint Mary’s hospital. No that you should feel bad, but I have an                   incurable disease. They told me I could live my life normally if I take pills forever and       have the life of a monk. And I won’t have that.

 Frost looked straight into Carter’s eyes. She felt a bit hurt by then, as they were bloody, as If he had been crying for a long time. Maybe he had cried a lot, maybe he was thinking about his chances and that’s why he had decided to leave the hidden message. He just wanted someone to join him and to know how bad he felt or how sad he was. Although that didn’t really corresponded to a man that had activated a bomb in a very crowded mall less than one year ago. His disease, whatever it was, didn’t change a single thing about him and the justice system.

     - I have to take you in. – Carter saw him straight in the eyes too. – You have done too         much. You cannot get away.

     - Yes I can. You know that.

     - But you wanted someone here with you. Why do that if all you wan is to keep                  vanishing?

 At first, Carter’s hands had been trembling. But that had disappeared. She was not nervous or scared anymore. She had a job to do and she was determined to actually do it, even if it meant running back to her gun and kill the terrorist right there. She was supposed to respect his life but she couldn’t allow him to keep escaping as he had been doing for so many years. He had fled so many horrible events he had caused, he was very insane and unstable, a person that could be trusted. Frost could not really believe he had the cards to come on top this time.

      - You’re done Frost. Come down with me, calmly.

      -  No. I need to tell you something first.

 She walked towards him and he didn’t move. Carter proceeded to taken his arm and made him kneeled before her. He didn’t really complain, he just seemed exhausted, tired somehow. His scar turned a little bit redder and she was disgusted to see it so close to her face. She took out some handcuffs she had on her back pocket but then Frost did a very fast move, pushing her by a vey loud punch on her chest, leaving her with no air on the floor. Then he got near her and asked her for silence.

 Frost took out a cellphone from his pocket and dialed a number. He waited for a bit and then someone answered in the other end. He asked for someone named Carly and then he waited again. Carter could hear he had called to a hospital or a hotel, somewhere where rooms were numbered. He talked with Carly for a while, smiling a bit and laughing. Maybe she was his wife or maybe a very close friend. Was she doing all of this for her? It didn’t make any sense. And if it was true he didn’t want to come in peace, then why bother doing all of this.

 When he finished his conversation, he told Carter to get up. He helped her but she let go of his hand as fast as he could. She demanded to know what was going on. And he complied explaining everything he had to explain. It was a long monologue, with precise details like times and days and even places and descriptions that made al seem so real. Carter thought he was playing her again but somehow he seemed honest, more than any other person she had witnessed confessing such a big part of his life.

 When he was finished, he just smiled at her and told her to keep the envelope. Downstairs, they were finally able to open the door but it was too late for that. A body crashed into one of the police cars, scaring ever-single man and woman there. Frost had jumped a few seconds ago, running towards the edge and not even doubting for a second. He had planned it like that all along and he had chosen that building because he knew how the police would park, how long they would take to bring the door down, how much time his body would take from top to bottom and so many other variable that he had loved to unravel. That had been him, through and through.

 A few weeks later, Carter visited Saint Mary’s. She met Carly there. She happened to be only nine years old and suffering a very rare disease. The best doctors in the world treated her and Carter was told it had been a difficult process but that the child would live. She was Frost’s niece, his only living relative. The envelope also revealed his disease, which was revealed by the police in the media creating a wave of hatred and proof, the irrefutable kind, that he had been forced to do every single one of his evil deeds. So his death was just one step of many on a game no one knew they were playing.