To End It All
Published by R. Cheesman at Smashwords
Copyright 2012 R. Cheesman
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The wind caught her dark hair, blowing it sideways across her face. It shielded her eyes, wet with tears from the cold of the air. This was it, this was the end, where Faith would meet oblivion at a hundred miles per hour towards the cold hard ground. She pulled her hair from around her face, and looked out at the vast skyline of the city around her.
This city, she thought. I hate this damned city. I wish I'd never moved here. Faith looked down toward the street a hundred storey’s below, the traffic like ants. Her hands trembled. Here come the shakes, she realized, and instinctively started to fumble through her pockets for the injector.
Neurostim.
The curse of high living in today's age. So many people came to the city, and most of them would be helpless addicts, pleading to do anything for the dealers to get their next hit. Faith had moved here less than a year ago, and had her first experience of the mind-altering drug within a few months of living here. A friend, supposedly, had introduced her to a guy known as 'Larry'. Even now, Faith was unsure if that was ever his real name. He never seemed to react to it when she shouted it out across a street, or phoned up and spoke to him. Larry, or whoever he really was, was a pusher. He dealt all sorts of chemical cocktails that would make you not care about one day or the next - until you came down from them.
She had a small hit of the drug, and could not remember the rest of the evening when she finally awoke the next morning. It progressed from there into weekly 'sessions', then a full-blown habit. Faith chuckled at recalling the memories. I'm not a drug addict, she would say to herself, as if it were a way of disproving what she had become, I can stop anytime I want.
Faith found, to her dismay, she could not simply walk away from her dependence on the drugs. Every time she tried, the shakes would come. Even at that stage, she could only go twenty-four hours before the shakes got so bad she could barely call up the number for Larry. Now, cold, lonely and away from it all, the shakes had begun.
They would follow the same pattern every time. First, the muscles in her wrists would cause her hands to shake uncontrollably, then her legs would lose control. Before she moved to the city, she'd seen documentaries about people hopelessly dependent on Neurostim, strapped to beds in hospital wards where they would let them fit it out. Apparently, commentators would say, ut was the only way out of dependence.
Faiths hand's were starting to shake.
The huge neon display board behind her changed colours, onto the next advert in a never-ending cycle of promotion, the big city life. So damned empty, thought Faith.
"You know, you're not supposed to be up here." A voice said from behind her. Faith almost jumped from the building in sheer fright. Barely managing to keep her balance, she turned to the voice. The man looked like a janitor, or service staff, or something like that, Faith noticed. At least he wasn't security.
"What do you care?" Faith said, filling herself with defiance.
"No reason." The man replied, quite simply. "Just that it's cold and windy."
"Won't matter in a while." Faith's hands were shaking almost uncontrollably now, and she was having difficulty hiding the fact.
"Sure it will. The name's Nylund." He gave her a small wave. He had kept his distance all this time. "Yours?"
"What do you care?" Faith said, and started to turn back to the edge.
"Because I've been there."
Faith turned back. Nylund was pointing to the roof's edge.
"Yeah?" There was a degree of skepticism in her voice.
"Yeah." Nylund popped the top button of his jacket, and pulled the collar away, exposing his collarbone. Under the neon light Faith could make out the blotched skin, cracked and peeling was a sign of a Neurostim addict.
"Are you..?" She started.
"No. I'm recovered. Spent my time in a hospital, doing the recov." Recov was the abbreviated term former Neurostim addicts called their time in hospital. When not tied to beds, fitting, they would be undergoing massive psychological evaluation tests.
Faith stepped from the edge, moving a couple of steps closer.
"You went through that? It must have been awful."
"Better than the options." He nodded to the edge. "Anyway, I came up here just to remind myself of where I've come from. Keeps me grounded, reminds me never to turn back to that life."
"How long?" Faith found herself taking another step away from the edge of the building.
"A year, so far."
"Yeah?" Faith realized that as the conversation had progressed, she had moved closer to this Nylund. He seemed okay, he may not have stopped her, but at least he understood her situation.
She started talking to him in more depth, they shared how they had got hooked on Nuerostim, how their lives had been flushed away in the chemically induced haze of virtual euphoria. Most importantly, Faith realized, this guy had gotten through. Sure, it wasn't a long period, but she could see victory in this guy's life. He was free.
"I'm thirsty." She smacked her lips. Nylund reached into his jacket, and pulled out a bottle of fruit juice.
"Here, have this. I was just going to sit here and reminisce anyway. You've done me that favour, so I'll return it." He offered her the bottle.
"Are you sure?" Nylund nodded, and she took it, apprehensively. She opened the bottle and took several long swigs. Her hands were shaking violently now. I really need a hit, she thought, as she noticed the shakes. Then she looked at Nylund. Victory, that's what it looks like.
Nylund's eyes were honest, pure. Nothing he said had been a lie.
"If I go through Recov," Faith started, "would you, y'know, be there?" She realized she must be blushing.
Nylund looked taken aback.
"What?" He looked deep in thought for a moment.
"Sure." He said, finally. "I'd help you get through this. Maybe we could..." It was his turn to look embarrassed. They looked into each others eyes for a moment, then laughed.
The wind picked up a little again, making Faith shiver.
"I want to live, y'know?" She looked out across the city, it's neon signs interfering with the dark of the night. It was time to try again, she thought to herself as she looked out , and maybe, just maybe, I'll get it right this time.
About the Author:
Richard is male, mid-thirties and happily married and owns a lovely pet collie. He enjoys spending time writing, reading and eating home-cooked food. He's rather good at that too.
He is the author of:
Wanderer – an apocalyptic SF tale of mystery
Robert’s Discovery – a flash fiction mystery story
Collected Poems 2011 – poetry I created during 2011
Look out for more short stories coming to Smashwords soon.
Alternatively, you can follow him on twitter: http://www.twitter.com/rich_cheese to hear any announcements about new works.