She · Issue 858, by David Roberts

‘As after sunset fadeth in the west, which by and by black night doth take away.’

William Shakespeare

She wakes to the blistering sound of another late night thriller. She had fallen asleep again without her childhood blanket on the cool comforts of the leather couch in the sitting room corner. She peels her face away from the cushion and sleepily looks at the time on the front of the video machine: it reads 9:44. She sighs and sits up to face the room. Her eyes hang half-closed still, but she manages to flick the light switch and find the remote to lower the volume.

Her eyes now awake, she gets up and walks around looking for a familiar face. She finds none – only a note attached to the corner of the fridge door. Her parents are out again; a poker night at friends. If they come home at all tonight, she’ll have to let them in, considering the state they’ll be in, and her brother at friends again. Once again she has the house to herself – every teenager’s dream, if they don’t fear being alone with themselves.

The last few weeks had been particularly hard: just that time when everything seems to be against you and nothing seems right. A little over three weeks ago her dad had broken three of his toes playing golf. A silly injury, but he’d slipped in a bunker and fallen awkwardly, and this meant that she had to walk everywhere. This would not have been a problem if the weather had not been so cruel and the mornings didn’t start so early. Day after day she came in late. Warning after warning, and patience wearing thin. The manager had given her one last strict warning, and the following morning she ran to make it, she needed the cash, she needed to get to work. Luckily, she wasn’t one to wear high heels and made good time. The sun shone and the wind seemed to carry her the whole way; It later dawned on her that this was in fact the last good day she’d have.

The next morning she woke to the window frames rattling from a harsh gale and the thundering noise of rain beating on the panes of glass. She rolled out of bed with a pulsing headache just behind her eyes, slipped some jeans on and brushed her hair. The woken up look wouldn’t brush out, and with only a few minutes before she had to leave she rushed to the kitchen. No time for toast; she grabbed a muffin and left, then rushed back in to fetch a coat.

The downpour lasted until she eventually reached work. Drenched right through, she entered the side door and met a disgruntled face she knew too well. Her boss stood over her like some towering beast. His words were few, but the tension left her face and a numbed, open stare stole her expression. As he turned and walked away, she glanced up and caught a glimpse of the round shiny hole in his still brown hair. Bald before his time, but the colour had not yet faded. His words finally sank in: ‘You’re sacked!’ She reached deep down into her pocket, pulled out a black phone, and dialled the number she knew by heart. The phone rang out, her family still slept, and she set out for her long walk home.

This meant that she had no money.Her parents gave her no money and she relied solely on her job for cash. The weeks that followed took their toll; she couldn’t go out or put money on her phone. Isolated and confined, she soon felt what loneliness really was. She lost contact with friends and her boyfriend got slowly frustrated and began sleeping around whenever he felt inclined. She didn’t know what happened outside of her home, so it hadn’t yet reached her. But it couldn’t be hidden forever.

So recently she’d been finding it hard, but she’d decided to go meet friends and just hang out and get back into the close circle she’d once been a part of. But it wasn’t the way she’d hoped it would have been. She’d longed to see her friends, but it was just too awkward, and news of her boyfriend soon leaked out. She didn’t take it well. It broke her heart.

She left quickly and quietly. Few had noticed she’d left, and nor was she missed. She scurried home. The long walk took forty minutes and the time was now four in the afternoon. She lay awake, content on the long smooth couch; tears escaped the corners of her eyes and freed her skin of happy dryness. She soon drifted away into a light sleep with the only comfort of peace.

So this is where her story continues: the story of a girl who cried a river and drowned the whole world. After searching the house and reading the note, she walks upstairs to the bathroom and wipes the thin pale layer of dried tear from her slightly swollen cheek and turns on the taps to run a hot bath. She stares at the water and closes her eyes, her mind slips back into the room when all her friends began to talk about her beloved in ways that she thought were personal to her. Another tear crept away from the confines of stricken eyelids; she can’t hold them and once again breaks down into a fast trickle of tickling tears.

There is no guessing what she is planning, the hot bath with no soap and the non-stop tears of a shattered life she once lived. She feels worthless and abused. The hurt gives her a beaten look, and the sorrow pours out of those tender eyes. Her eyes now pink and her hair a mess from hiding her face in shame, even though there is no one to look, she feels embarrassed – like everyone she loves laughs at her. She locks the door and, in uncontrollable tears, prepares herself. She doesn’t know what else to do. Her family show no care, and her friends betray her.

She lights a small candle and gets into the bath still clothed, besides her ballet type shoes, which are thrown beside the wall. The small candle lights the room in a gentle glow. There seemed no decision to take; just two little nicks with her father’s razor blade; her last worldly peace is this moment. For a second, before the candle goes out, she is at peace. Then the quick sting of the wick losing its light brings darkness, and out of that darkness comes yet more darkness, but for her, it is all better. The life gently empties from her eyes, her eyelids fall, and her fingers flicker no more. The last tear slowly rolls down the contours of her face and into the life stained pool. She finds her own peace, in the only way she knows to find it.