small! I could feel my toes ache from the lack of blood flow. I reached down to remove them but the laces wrapped up my legs and across my entire body! They were wrapping around my throat and squeezing the air from my lungs! I clawed at my throat, digging into my flesh with my nails trying to get a grasp on the ribbon! It wouldn’t come free and my vision was blackening at the edges.
Was this how death comes for you? Like an erosion of your spirit, slowly darkening that which you are. An idea came to me… I could stop. I could let my hands fall away and wait for the darkness to consume me. The need to fight was strong, I felt my mind panic at the idea, but I also felt my heart sigh at the thought of relief.
I could choose, I had that one power, to let go or keep fighting. I tried to think of something worth fighting for, something that made the effort worth it… Nothing came to mind, and the darkness advanced a little more.
I took my hands from my throat and looked at them through the darkening haze. My nails had never been manicured but they were still neatly trimmed. I could see I had not painted them in a while but they shone red with my blood. It was splattered across my nails and dripped down my fingers. The sight was a testament that I had tried to fight. I closed my eyes, giving in to the dark.
Daphne! My name echoed in the dark, but it wasn’t my voice that called it.
Daphne! I opened my eyes. Nearly all my vision was gone now, but I could see a rope stretched out before me. I saw what I had not before, or perhaps it hadn’t been there til now. I stood atop platform high in the air, a tight rope was extended in front of my like a very thin bridge.
Daphne! He seemed impossibly far away. Luke stood atop another platform, across the rope from me. He looked sad; like he had when I left him at the hospital. He was gesturing for me to cross the rope to him. I had never been afraid of heights before, but crossing that rope looked like suicide. What’s the difference if I just stood here? I was dying either way.
It was a new choice. I could stand here and die, alone, or I could take a risk and try walking the rope. Standing still was certain death, but on the slim chance I survived walking the tightrope, Luke could save me. He could cut away the laces strangling me. I took a step forward to where the rope was anchored to the platform.
My vision was only a pinprick of sight now; I had almost waited too long. My heart hammered in my ears; I stepped out onto the rope.
Chapter Eight
The rest of my weekend was spent in bed. I binged on Chinese takeout and trash television courtesy of Netflix. I kept up on just enough text conversation to keep Carolyn from coming over, but I didn’t answer any calls. No matter how hard I had wished for it not to happen, Monday morning was upon me. The reflection in the mirror told me I was a mess. My hair was a rat’s nest, there were soy sauce stains on the t-shirt I had worn since my last shower, and I was probably developing a fortune cookie cavity.
It took the better part of the hour to get my hair in a presentable, if still messy, bun. I skipped the makeup, but brushed my teeth and left the t-shirt in its place on the bathroom floor. I didn’t care what I looked like today, and I dreaded listening to the old ladies cue over their stupid cats, but I had rent to pay. I picked the closest clothes in my closet, a black tank top with a dark green cover shirt, and jeans. I slipped on a pair of silver flats, grabbed my grubby purse and headed out the door.
I had saved enough time skipping the normal morning primping to walk to work and stop for a coffee. I picked one up for Carolyn as an ‘I’m sorry for pushing you away I needed alone time’ gift. The elevator doors opened and I was back in my own personal version of hell. People were still wondering about in a morning daze, getting ready to settle at the tedious task of offering customer service to the feline fandom. Carolyn
Was this how death comes for you? Like an erosion of your spirit, slowly darkening that which you are. An idea came to me… I could stop. I could let my hands fall away and wait for the darkness to consume me. The need to fight was strong, I felt my mind panic at the idea, but I also felt my heart sigh at the thought of relief.
I could choose, I had that one power, to let go or keep fighting. I tried to think of something worth fighting for, something that made the effort worth it… Nothing came to mind, and the darkness advanced a little more.
I took my hands from my throat and looked at them through the darkening haze. My nails had never been manicured but they were still neatly trimmed. I could see I had not painted them in a while but they shone red with my blood. It was splattered across my nails and dripped down my fingers. The sight was a testament that I had tried to fight. I closed my eyes, giving in to the dark.
Daphne! My name echoed in the dark, but it wasn’t my voice that called it.
Daphne! I opened my eyes. Nearly all my vision was gone now, but I could see a rope stretched out before me. I saw what I had not before, or perhaps it hadn’t been there til now. I stood atop platform high in the air, a tight rope was extended in front of my like a very thin bridge.
Daphne! He seemed impossibly far away. Luke stood atop another platform, across the rope from me. He looked sad; like he had when I left him at the hospital. He was gesturing for me to cross the rope to him. I had never been afraid of heights before, but crossing that rope looked like suicide. What’s the difference if I just stood here? I was dying either way.
It was a new choice. I could stand here and die, alone, or I could take a risk and try walking the rope. Standing still was certain death, but on the slim chance I survived walking the tightrope, Luke could save me. He could cut away the laces strangling me. I took a step forward to where the rope was anchored to the platform.
My vision was only a pinprick of sight now; I had almost waited too long. My heart hammered in my ears; I stepped out onto the rope.
Chapter Eight
The rest of my weekend was spent in bed. I binged on Chinese takeout and trash television courtesy of Netflix. I kept up on just enough text conversation to keep Carolyn from coming over, but I didn’t answer any calls. No matter how hard I had wished for it not to happen, Monday morning was upon me. The reflection in the mirror told me I was a mess. My hair was a rat’s nest, there were soy sauce stains on the t-shirt I had worn since my last shower, and I was probably developing a fortune cookie cavity.
It took the better part of the hour to get my hair in a presentable, if still messy, bun. I skipped the makeup, but brushed my teeth and left the t-shirt in its place on the bathroom floor. I didn’t care what I looked like today, and I dreaded listening to the old ladies cue over their stupid cats, but I had rent to pay. I picked the closest clothes in my closet, a black tank top with a dark green cover shirt, and jeans. I slipped on a pair of silver flats, grabbed my grubby purse and headed out the door.
I had saved enough time skipping the normal morning primping to walk to work and stop for a coffee. I picked one up for Carolyn as an ‘I’m sorry for pushing you away I needed alone time’ gift. The elevator doors opened and I was back in my own personal version of hell. People were still wondering about in a morning daze, getting ready to settle at the tedious task of offering customer service to the feline fandom. Carolyn
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