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Lupin said the name on the board. The bar, unlike any other, that I had ever visited, was silent, almost as though it were closed off to certain people only. Yet, I had found my way in, both due to the copious amount of tears the sky was shedding and the tears which I wanted to swallow back with a nice drink.
The atmosphere being rather petrifying, but I forced myself to face it, unlike the demons that plagued my mortified mind. It took two glasses of whisky and one glass of plum wine to settle into the eerie atmosphere.
At any point I felt the eerie atmosphere closing in on me, the bracelet with a crescent moon charm that had graced my right wrist would come to touch my heart. It gave me enough solace to be able to push away the uncanniness and continue to sit there.
At, what I believed was the fifth drink of my day, the feeling of being pressed flat intensified to the point that I was ready to walk out, something I would always do at the first sign of trouble.
Money paid and my purse clutched in my hand tight, I prepared for my departure when a voice from behind asked gleefully. ‘Ahh Bella Donna, I’ve found that my purpose of living is to be able to commit a double suicide with you. So, join me?’ The voice got a face when the man came to my right side.
Suicide.
The very word, thought, action, that nagged me from the past two days. The man’s nonchalance to speak that word out vexed me. The throbbing pain in my head and tight muscles of my legs which made standing up a pain, did not help the anger.
Perhaps the alcohol had did its assigned job better than required, as it attacked the only human attribute I had left, which was a brain. And perhaps it was that attack of the alcohol, that my poor brain couldn’t withstand and a mumbled yes left my mouth.
It was not until he gleefully whispered a ‘good choice’ that I saw the man’s face. He had brown hair, long enough that many fell on his forehead and his eyes looked like chocolate, and gosh how I hated chocolate. His outfit seemed normal but the bandage clad arms and turquoise pendant peaked my curiosity.
Having no brain, I was smart enough to ask a guy who spoke of suicide, the cause of his bandaged arms. He took no offence, letting out a chuckle and shaking his head, probably at my stupid drunk antics. ‘Do they worry you?’
Mostly they did not, perhaps it just intrigued me to see that much of his body covered, probably carrying strikes of red, new and old, under all that white. Yet I shook my head and let out a small laugh, finally having restored a part of my brain refraining from saying all my thoughts to a man I did not know.
‘Why do you think of death?’ He enquired as he ordered a glass on whisky. It was a simple question, one which would never have a simple answer.
‘Why do you?’ I hoped his answer would give me a good enough lie, almost because I knew he would lie too.
I doubt he had taken a proper look at my face before this moment, probably my short, brown hair covering the view. For a good second, we looked at each other, his eyes inspecting each feature of mine. Perhaps there was something about my eyes, something that made him to look back at it once he analysed my face.
He quickly turned back to face the bar before his gaze could linger any longer; a smile broke out on his face again as he spoke, ‘Well, death stays in my mind and seeing your beauty, I would love to commit the crime of suicide with you only, Bella Donna.’
‘You don’t even know my name,’ I said in refute.
‘You never said,’ he made a point there. The whisky he asked for now in his hands. ‘So, why do you want to die?’ He questioned yet again, with his glass slightly raised in my direction.
I grab my half empty glass to cling with his before drowning the remaining drinking into my throat, the urning felt all too familiar. ‘My mother died two weeks ago.’ Finding no excuse, I let the truth lead the conversation.
‘Loss….is a rather familiar feeling for me.’ And, maybe it was just the alcohol, but I could hear the truth in his voice, could even see it if I were not so drunk and tried to pick up the small details. ‘Death almost feels comforting, feels better than this accursed world.’
It sounded so genuine, his voice devoid of delight and life he had up until now. ‘Don’t you have hope it’ll get better?’ But, he did not and I knew that because his words spoke the truth and it was the truth even I lived in, the truth I wanted to excuse from too.
He knew that of course, as he let out that dry chuckle at my question. ‘You don’t have hope yourself, you know the feeling, so you know the answer too.’ I slowly nodded my head in response, the throbbing intensifying from the action. ‘So, still interested in double suicide?’
I couldn’t help but finally let out a chuckle at his randomness. But with the way he behaved, I could have that he did not like it when things were serious and personal. I agree, since I still believed that the bar was too eerie for my liking, and he suggested me go to the bridge nearby and decide what to do from there.
The rain had stopped, but there remained puddles of water across the street, and the smell was further proof that tears were shed. It was a struggle to wake the first few steps, my legs frozen like I was in Antarctica. Him on the other hand seemed to not have any struggle that made me wonder if he had drunk much at all. It annoyed me that he looked him he had himself much more controlled than me.
‘Do you think your mother would want you died?’ His voice broke my attention from the pain and inner cursing in his direction. I wonder about that often, would she wish me death? I doubt she would, she was a good mother and made sure I had everything, she would not want me to leave that behind.
I was unable to produce the voice to say it despite getting the answer. It might have been because I knew my actions right now is exactly what my mother would not want, or it was just a curtesy of the alcohol in my blood. So, once again as a way to feel safer, I gripped the bracelet on my wrist, it was my mom’s gift, the last thing I received from her as an official gift.
I forced the words out of my mouth, ‘I would believe she wants me to remain alive.’ Honestly it was clear that I struggled with those words, the hoarse tone and slight cracks giving me away. But he did not comment on it, which I was grateful for.
‘With the way you’ve spoken of her, it seems like you had a good relationship. Why would you want to go against what she wishes for you?’ His tone carried genuine curiosity and I wished he hadn’t asked the question at all.
‘I don’t like this world, feels too unbearable without her presence. Work crushes down the only bit of confidence I have. Im just tried, life doesn’t feel worth living.’ It was the first time I had said those feelings out loud, first time I had someone to listen to it all.
And as we walked, my muscles now more relaxed, the air of melancholy hugged us. ‘You have the eyes of someone who I cared about.’ It was random, it was out of no where, but i suppose it solved the mystery of why his gaze would linger on my eyes a lot.
‘He told me something very important before dying. That’s the goal of my life.’ Goal of his life? Was he telling me to find a goal for myself, something that ill give me reason enough to? But you have no will to live and its clear you’ve attempted enough of times, so what do you mean? That was a question on the tip of my tongue, one i knew was not right to ask, so i swallowed it back.
‘So then, why do you wish to die?’ It was a kinder, well worded way of my thoughts.
‘Just like you said, the absence is unbearable. Also, I did unspeakable things just to find the will to live. I’m not proud of who I was and I can’t fathom what I can or will do just to find a reason to survive.’
Not knowing the extent of unspeakable he meant, I could not comment much, but it was clear that he had a past he regretted, it was evident in his voice. I found myself agreeing to him though, the things we do to survive, the things we do to find survival.
If anything, life is just a violent immoral game which is said to be worth everything.
In the span of a second, I feel a sharp pain in my head and i stopped in my tracks, hands reaching for my head in hopes that would help. He takes a second to realise that I have stopped walking and when he sees me, he asks, ‘are you alright?’
I nod my head, although that did not help the throbbing, now coupled with the discomfort in my stomach. Now i remember why I hated alcohol, it is absolutely pathetic.
We stayed there for a while in silence, a while enough for the sensation to at least subside before we could continue the walk. And it did subside, just taking a bit longer than I would have wished. After that he insisted to walk behind me in case I do not feel well again or faint.
According to him, getting drunk and falling on my face is the most stupidest way to die if I’m that weak to die from just that much and he wants to save me from such an ‘embarrassing death’ and hence he will walk behind me.
We did not share any more words as we continued our walk to the bridge, probably because we were trying to process how we were speaking out some of our deepest thoughts to a strangers whose name we do not know.
‘Do we just jump from the bridge?’ Spoke out my meek voice as we neared his bridge. He Simple’s nodded, but it was clear he had more on his mind that he would like to say.
There was no reason for me to hesitate to accept death, to walk towards death myself, after all it is my choice. But now, with death feeling so close and real; my steps are smaller, slower, and my heart beating a tad bit too fast (was it just the alcohol?).
I think he caught onto my hesitation because he let out a chuckle, one that sounded like it was meant o mock me (it was not). ‘Having second thoughts, pretty?’ Those words finally broke me, a violent sob escaping me, the sobs I had been holding back for hours.
‘Why does it always have to be like this?’ I murmured as i fell to my knees, finding it too hard to bear my own weight. I did not understand why it was like this, I was so ready and so convinced to die, and yet I would never have enough courage to do it. I was never, and never ready to live another day, but I just could not find it in my heart to end my existence.
He just stood back, either because he did not know what to do or he just did not want to say anything. I ruined his day too, I’m sure he had gone to the bar with the intention to have some fun and now he was stuck with some girl (me) who was crying about her life.
I could not stop the tears now that it was flowing down my cheeks, gladly it was late enough for the street to be relatively empty and I did not have half of the Japanese population witness my breakdown.
I don’t know how long I just sobbed like that, clutching my bracelet with hopes that it would give me some answers. I believed that he left until I heard his voice from behind me. ‘Life…its a cycle of constant grief and anguish…that’s what I learnt. The question is, are you strong enough to survive that ordeal?’ His voice so low, it was almost inaudible.
His words made sense, of course it did. ‘What’s the point of being strong enough to survive that ordeal?’ Asked my voice, in that meek tone with enough cracks that you could say I was crying.
‘That is what we have to find out. I struggle to find my will to live because it feels like I am not satisfied with anything, and I truly wish I was, but I’m not. I don’t have expectations from myself, I don’t have expectations from anyone, all I know is that I’m listening to my friend who told me to be on the side that saves people.’
His voice spoke of the sorrow he faced, his voice spoke of the absolute emptiness he felt. I could resonate with his words, not completely, but at least partly.
Now my sobs had stopped, although I would still sniffle a bit. I had forced myself to stand, to see his face that had the expression of nothingness.
‘Life is just a dark void. People live, people die, people fight, people kill, so what’s your worth in this battle? I never truly understood that, the value of life when death is destined, the value of one life amongst so many. But, well…..the idiots who decide to live deserve to see some beauty, that is me, so I’ll remain alive for those idiots who want to live on this ball.’
I heard the tall man’s words carefully despite the headache I was having. I mean he was quite daft for trying to explain a suicidial, dunk girl his thoughts. But I let out a chuckle at his last words, it was so not what I needed to hear, but it was so real. He was not telling me to live because it’s going to be okay, he knew it would not. He spoke his genuine feelings, what he felt, what he went through to not want to survive.
‘So what is the conclusion of this speech?’ It was shallow maybe, he spoke of his pain and I wanted to know why he spoke all that, what he was getting at.
‘I don’t have a reason or will to live, I’m still alive so-’
‘You asked me to join you for a double suicide and your arms are covered with bandages.’ I broke him mid sentence with the facts that were evident. How could he speak of living and staying alive when he had no zeal to do the same?
‘I did. But am I still alive or not?’
‘You are.’
‘I’m not saying you should live, that’s your choice. What I am saying is that in bad or good situation, you have the power to decide if you want to stay in it or not. You always have a choice, but the consequences of your choice is a different topic.’ He turned to face the river as he spoke.
…In some ways, he was right, you have the choice to get out of situations. Then and, situations like losing someone important to you is not something you can avoid or get out of. ‘I lost my mom, it was not my choice.’
We decided to let go of that conversation and made our way to the bridge just in case ‘I change my mind’, as he so eloquently put it, with his smile back on his face might I add.
‘Are you sure you want to be ignorant and survive?’ Despite his harsh words on my decision, might I saw which I took a lot of offence about, I remained silent and just nodded my head, softly this time so that my brain matter doe not go haywire and cause me more pain.
Evidently, he did not learn enough about life to know that while walking a drunk girl to her house (I kept leading us in the wrong direction, but we don’t talk about that) you do not tell her the many available methods to kill yourself (or even others at this point).
Eventually, that is after a long while, we finally reached to my apartment complex. ‘Ahh home.’ I sighed gleefully.
‘This is where we shall part then, Bella Donna.’ His charming smile never flattering a second.
‘Are you happy of finally getting rid of me?’
‘If I wanted, I would have gotten rid of you long ago.’ The dark edge in his voice certainly did not leave much to imagine, making it clear that he spoke of murdering me.
‘Why didn’t you then?’
‘As much as I like killing, you seem like the type who would gladly be murdered. I want a murder to be worth my time, murdering you won’t be.’ He said it with such conviction, the smile on his face looking nothing but dangerous now. Who was this man? ‘Now, I shall get going.’
That was the last of him I saw. The man whose name I did not know, but agreed to join him for a double suicide.
It’s been about a week since that day I got drunk, I do not remember much except for the fact that there was a man who gave suicide tips. Now I wish to talk to him again, his tips would really help (should have taken his offer of double suicide and died that night).