Everything significant in Nikolas' life seemed to end in rain. Thunder would tumble in the clouds, looming in the distance, and suddenly the air would be a million droplets to drown him. The black clouds chose him, they moved over his head alone. It was as though the storms waited to draw a close to each chapter of his life, as though they were the final toll to tell him when everything was over.
Tonight the rain fell in sheets, masked in the darkness of the city around him; a dim, flickering streetlamp was his only assistant to sight. The lines of raindrops mocked him as they hissed through the air, collided with the cement around him, flooded over the curb of the street, snickered amd murmured into the gutters as they leaked into the flooding grates. The hardhearted rain drizzled artlessly over the thin sheet metal overhang that sheltered his already soaking figure from the downpour. The water was creating uneven puddles just out of range of his feet. Spilling out of his hand was a nearly empty bottle of sleeping pills. Motionless he lay there, his breathing shallow as he awaited the imminent end to his life.
His eyelids began to fall heavily over his pitiful chocolate pools, vision already blurred by side effects. He began to slip into the abysmal sleep that he had been seeking so desperately. Finally the rain would close the final chapter on Nikolas' life, the final chapter of the poorly written pages, a rushed ending, a cliffhanger that no one would care about.
Consciousness escaped him completely and his long awaited sleep took hold of him, engulfing him in Death's sweet and loving embrace. The metallic ping of the water falling above him vanished with the sound of his breathing. The rain would no longer have the opportunity to ruin him. Nikolas was finally free form the merciless games that the storms played with his life, and he had finally broken the chains that bound his unhappiest moments to the seemingly insignificant droplets.
Only a split second seemed to pass before Nikolas reopened his eyes. He felt warmth hugging his body and a bright light shone from above him. He squinted, adjusting to the vivid atmosphere. Heaven blessed him with its iridescence; a sigh of relief escaped him, he was exactly where he wanted to be. "Finally..." he exhaled, his voice barely coming through in a coarse tone. He reached up and placed his palm on his forehead, only to meet the wet fabric of a warm facecloth and he sat up, all of a sudden realizing that he wasn't in the paradise that he was hoping for.
It seemed that Heaven had decided to leave him to write a meaningless epilogue. He felt like shit, his head ached, his mouth was dry, and his lips were sore and rough like a thick grained sandpaper. He glanced around, simply wondering where he was; this room was foreign to him and the comfortable queen sized bed was a stranger to his body. His limbs felt weak, his legs felt disconnected from his body, and he couldn't feel anything but pain all over.
Across the room he noticed the bottle of pills sitting on a dresser. He cursed them as an unsuccessful remedy to his life and he laid back down, resting his head on the supple cloud that supported his neck. Approaching footsteps filled his ears, they were light and quick; he watched the door, waiting to see who the spoiler of his ruin was. The doorknob turned and a second later the entire door was open and a young woman walked into the room, her eyes set on him. Bright blue eyes held between them a a narrow, straight nose, they were positioned directly above rosy cheeks and directly below a set of thin eyebrows upon a narrow forehead. Long, chestnut hair curled loosely along the sides of her face and along her neck. A curt smile suddenly came across thin, flesh-colored lips and she stood in the doorway and stared at him. "So, sleeping beauty finally opens his eyes?" She leaned herself against the dresser and waited for some sort of response, but received no such courtesy. She rolled her eyes and snatched the bottle of pills in her hand, there was no rattle, indicating that the bottle was empty. She raised the bottle close to her face and examined it. "You'd think that someone trying to kill themselves would at least spring for the double strength."
Nikolas clenched at the blanket over his legs, her words hit him like a boulder, she was painfully reminding him that he had failed at taking his own life, that he was pitiful for still being here.
She pierced him with cold blue eyes, awaiting once again for some form of response from him. Her patience was wasted and she pushed herself away form the dresser, "not much of a talker, hm?" a sigh slipped through her lips as her steps led her to the bedside.
He avoided eye contact with her, his muscles tensed and became more sore with every word that spilled from this woman's tongue. Who did she think she was? Why had she decided to pick up a complete stranger and bring him back to her house? He froze and forgot to breathe for an instant before he exhaled, "Why did you bring me here?" he forced out through dry lips and a constricted throat.
"You looked like you needed help," her face remained neutral, she didn't smile, nor did she frown at him, she was giving him nothing but a default expression.
"I didn't ask for your help."
"But you got it anyway."
"Do you regularly pick up strangers off the street?"
" Sometimes." And her tone was flat, as though she was no longer going to dignify him with emotion in her speech. He didn't say anything more, knowing that he probably wasn't going to receive a straight answer from her.
"Do you need anything?" An abrupt question on her end, and her voice filled with something that resembled concern. He just looked up at her, glaring in his mind at her and he shook his head, not wanting to speak again through the dryness of his mouth.
She said nothing to his response and simply left the room, leaving the door open behind her. He listened to her hurried steps and then made out the sound of a phone beeping and soon, a one-sided conversation began.
"I won't be able to make it tonight," was the opening line that he could clearly make out, "something came up," a ten second elapse allowed the person on the other end to speak, "work called, they need me there." She stopped again, "They couldn't get a hold of anyone else!" Her tone elevated and an obvious annoyance was caught in her words, "Goodbye," was the solid, final word of the conversation as the phone was slammed onto something that he assumed to be a table.
And then he heard her walking a little farther away, and then her footsteps drew nearer again. She entered the room, a teacup perched neatly between her palms. She placed it on the night stand beside him and watched as he eyed it with suspicion. "It's not poisoned," she assured.
"why did you tell that person you had to go to work?" he asked, half-expecting her to call him out for listening to her phone call.
"I doubt that my boyfriend would take kindly to the fact that I canceled our date because there was another man in my bed." Maybe that was the closest thing to a joke he had heard from her since he woke up. "The tea will help your throat," she said to him, quickly changing the subject.
Nikolas reached for the cup and blew on the surface before he took a careful sip of the hot liquid.
"What's your name?" She was now sitting on the end of the bed, her head turned sideways to face him.
He cleared his throat and placed the teacup back on the table beside him, "Nikolas."
"I'm Naomi," she introduced before continuing, "can I ask you something, Nikolas?"
He thought it over for a moment, biting the inside of his lip in thought but finally answered, "sure."
"Why did you do it?"
And like a shot to the heart everything filled his mind at once, everything that had brought him here, he had almost forgotten what had brought him to the woman's house but her inquiry made him remember it all too quickly. "My fiance cheated on me and kicked me out of my own apartment," he answered, hoping that it would fulfill her curiosity.
"That's it?"
Her cold response sent arrows through his veins, "what do you mean 'That's it'?!" he snapped.
"It just doesn't seem like a good reason to do what you did," she rose to her feet, staring down at him now with her arms crossed over her chest.
"then what, pray tell, is a good reason?" He wondered out of pure frustration.
"There is no good reason for people to kill themselves," Nikolas winced at the lack of a euphemism, "it's a selfish act and anyone who does it or even attempts it is a complete idiot."
He flinched at her words. He was just another idiot to her, just another man thinking that he was deserving of death that he had no more to live for. "My heart was broken, what else could I have done?"
"Moved on." The answer she gave him was quick as though she had been anticipating his question.
"With what?"
"Your life."
"How?"
She shook her head, "I can't tell you that." She leaned down to the bedside table and opened the drawer, removing a rattling bottle of Advil, extra strength. She closed the drawer and slammed the bottle down on the hard surface beside him, "but if you can't figure anything out for yourself, here's your answer."
Nikolas listened to the sound of the pills and it reassured him in some way, it made him feel like he had a second chance to get what he wanted. She was giving him a second chance to die, and he was thankful to her for that. Listening to this woman talk down to him, criticize him about his choice, it made him sick to the stomach. Naomi turned to leave without another word to him and she closed the door behind her this time. He stared out the window at the rain that splayed itself against the glass, streaking and creating abstract images. The rain had succeeded in its purpose; it had drawn a close to another chapter in his life, it told him something that he hadn't known before. Tonight the rain told him that his life without peace, without sanity, without truth, was over. And it gave him a new purpose, it wrote him a new ending.
He reached over and grabbed the thing he needed the most. He sipped the tea carefully again. His mouth was still dry.
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