I turn my neck to watch her reaction.
“Methods?” she asks confused. Then her eyes alight with realisation. “Oh.”
I clench my jaw and nod, looking away. Watching the dogs as I speak my entire truth seems a great deal easier than staring at her innocent face. “I actually Googled the best ways to kill myself. I’d never done anything like that before…Never even considered it. Not properly. But on day five, I had reached my breaking point in my personal life and researching methods felt like the ultimate fuck you to the universe.”
“What caused you to reach your breaking point?” she asks quietly.
Frowning, I recall the intense night I had with Reyna in her flat. The one that resulted in me getting socked in the face by Liam. I close my eyes and reply, “Things were changing all around me. My best mate at the time was Rey and she was changing…pulling away from me. I took it badly. That on top of everything else I had been dealing with was just suffocating me.
“So I started Googling options. A great deal different than Googling a nice holiday, let me tell you. Once you get past all the self-help numbers that pop up like mad, I discovered that a gun seems the quickest and most popular method. But I didn’t have one of those. Carbon monoxide poisoning from running a car inside a closed garage could have been an option, but I didn’t have a car either. Pills and booze could work. But I had seriously abused pills and booze in my past, so obtaining a prescription for me was and still is damn near impossible since my medical chart is flagged. And I’m not too keen on drug dealers.” I laugh self-deprecatingly and shake my head. “I had lots of access to sharp, circular saw blades, though…So—”
“You slit your wrists,” she finishes.
I nod woodenly, unsnapping and re-snapping one of my leather cuffs that conceals a horrid scar beneath. My throat constricts with anxiety. “I think I wanted to feel the pain. To watch the end. I wanted to choose the exact time it occurred. I couldn’t stomach the idea of hanging myself. But I considered it.”
I look over to Vi to gauge her reaction and her face is frozen in a serious, sombre expression. “You okay?” I ask, touching my finger to her cheek. Her eyes close at my caress and the warmth of her skin reminds me that I’m not alone. That’s she’s right here…heart beating, breathing, listening, absorbing, and enduring beside me.
She nods, her chin trembling, “It’s sad.”
No two words could better define such raw truth.
I nod in confirmation. “It is sad.” I look away again and my eyes zero in on an elderly woman sitting on a bus bench. Her tiny hands are peeling away at an orange and something about the simplicity of that act—the beauty of her eating a piece of fresh fruit that this world offered—gives me the strength to continue. “I felt relief once I decided how to do it. It felt like I had a plan. I could see the end of the tunnel that seemed so utterly painful and horrid. I hated my life. I hated everything happening around me. I had no control in any aspect. I was fucking up at work. I was fucking up with my mates. With my family. Every turn was just another opportunity for me to fuck up. So day five was the first day that I thought, ‘All right…Now you’ve manned-up and have finally done something for yourself.’ It’s strange, but I felt brave. And I felt peace.”
“You seem so different from the man you’re describing,” Vi says as I pinch the bridge of my nose to stave off the tears I can feel pricking my eyes. “I can’t imagine that guy…so ready to give up. I know we don’t know that much about each other, but you seem so confident now. Strong.”
“I was confident in my choice then. It didn’t feel like giving up in my mind. It felt like a solution. A permanent mute button to silence all the noise in my head.”
A thoughtful quietness stretches out between us while we both absorb everything I just said. As if sensing our tense state, Bruce comes trotting over, panting happily, and noses Vi’s crossed legs. She remains still, so he quickly moves on from her and shoves his face into my hands and through to my face. I half smile and give him a hearty pat.
“Bruce, go on and run! Leave us be,” Vi reprimands.
“He’s fine,” I say. Then a man and his Dalmatian enter the closed gate and, without hesitation, Bruce trots off anyway to go and greet the newcomers.
Vi breaks the silence. “May I ask you about your sister?”
I lift my brows. “It’s funny you ask because that’s a lot of what day four was about.”
“Go on then,” she smiles sadly. “Was she pretty special?”