Chapter 14 #2
You don’t deserve to be happy when you make everyone else so miserable.
I look towards my co-workers, the people who I would love to call friends but can’t because I know the affection I feel for them is one-sided.
“I’m just going for some fresh air,” I say to no one in particular.
No one hears me, and nor does anyone notice me stand and walk away.
I weave my way through the other people, my head low so they can’t see the tears starting to fall.
I don’t want to be another crying drunk girl someone has to take responsibility for.
I slip through the front door, past the bouncer and around to the side of the bar.
I lean against the wall, checking no one is around to see me, and break down.
You’ve always been the problem.
They would all be better off if you weren’t around.
All of it’s true. I fail at everything, and others suffer because of it. I’m a terrible friend, a terrible daughter, a terrible teacher, and I was a terrible wife.
I look down at myself, and my gaze focuses on all of my physical flaws.
I look at them one after another, and each time my focus shifts, I feel my heart cracking a little bit more.
I have absolutely nothing to offer anyone.
It would be a kindness to end things now.
A kindness to others, as they wouldn’t have to tolerate me anymore.
A kindness to myself because then my excruciating pain would finally be over.
You should do it.
Now would be the ideal time to slip away, while everyone’s busy.
There’s no one to notice I’m gone, not that they’d care if they did notice.
Vi, Tim and Seren are probably on stage having the time of their lives without me.
Ivy is in Edinburgh with no idea I’m even out tonight.
My mum is in Spain living her own life with her new husband.
And Connor will still be at work, assuming I’m out having fun.
I’ve had thoughts of ending things before, but I’ve always been too much of a coward to follow it through. That’s another character flaw to add to the list. Wimp? Check. But now, with several drinks in my system, I’m feeling braver. I feel ready to finally do the right thing.
Tears fall from my eyes again as I try to form a plan.
I turn off my phone, deciding that I don’t want anything to distract me last minute or to be tempted to call someone.
I get a flash of guilt when I remember Connor’s words a few weeks ago: ‘I’ve promised you that I will always listen to you and never judge you.
I need you to promise me in return that you’ll talk to me when you feel low so I can keep you safe.
Shout through the walls, phone me, send me a damn carrier pigeon, I don’t care as long as you tell me.
Promise me?’ I made a promise to let him help me if I felt this way again.
But the only way to help me now is to let it all end so I can finally be at peace.
Besides, he’s too many walls away to shout, my phone is turned off and there are no pigeons around to carry a message, so technically I’m not breaking a promise.
Stop worrying about it, he probably won’t remember anything about that conversation now anyway. He was just trying to make you stop crying.
Out of everything going through my head right now, that thought cuts deeper than them all.
I figure the best way to go about this would be to make it look like an accident.
If I walk into traffic or step from an overpass it’ll look like I’ve been drunk and staggered the wrong way.
At least this way the people in my life won’t feel guilty about not being able to stop me, which wouldn’t be the case if I took pills or cut myself.
Pulling myself up from the wall, I straighten my dress and wipe the tears from my eyes. There’s no need to cry anymore. This is the right thing for everyone. I’m finally doing something right.
I take off Violet’s shoes and hold them to me, then place them on the floor next to the outer wall of the heaving pub.
I wouldn’t want to ruin them. The tarmac is rough under my feet, and I relish the bite of pain it causes.
Then I walk away from the blaring music of the bars, towards the main roads.
At this time of night, the roads will be quiet bar a few lorries which will be big enough to withstand the impact of even my body.
The driver won’t be hurt. If I’m lucky, they’ll just think they hit a large animal and keep going.
I walk along the lonely path, not feeling the cold, my critical voice reminding me that this is the right thing to do. I’m useless. Worthless. A burden to anyone who knows me. I fuck everything up, every time. I have never, and will never, truly be loved because I don’t deserve it.
I reach the end of the path, where it reaches the road.
I take several deep breaths, building up the courage to do what has to be done.
The tears start to fall again, and the noise in my head gets deafeningly loud, interrupted only by the roar of an engine in the distance.
Headlights approach from the right. This is it.
I sob, willing my leg to move and step out onto the road.
Just as I feel my shaking foot leave the ground, I hear a familiar male voice behind me.
“Matilda? What are you doing?”
The voice breaks the spell I’d put on myself, and I turn around. I feel a rush of air against my back as the lorry that could have sealed my fate passes by. I look up at the man standing a pace away from me, worry evident in his blue eyes.