I was contemplating why this was happening, why it had to be me! I was confused. I couldn’t stop the abysmal thoughts whirling around in my head…I was too weak.
My eyes scanned the fog that blanketed the lake district mountains and then down to where light mist clung over the valleys like a limpet to a rock, it would not clear. Neither would my mind, no matter how much I breathed in the freshest of air, nor how much my family had begged me, my mind would not clear.
Would this be my end?
The famous writer lying unmoving, untouched, at the bottom of the Lemar Cliff, dead.
I wasn’t sure.
I was scared.
The wretched thought of dying caused my stomach to jostle and turn but my life was unpleasant and I knew I couldn’t go back to it, I had a one way ticket out of hell. And that was to die.
I looked down at the ground, the moss and green grass now moistened by my saturated tears. The intricate cracks like the veins running through my own skin. I took a step forward. I was going to do this, my legs began to quake until I fell to my knees, curled into a ball and I started wailing.
Why? Why did God have to make my life a misery?
I dug my hands into the soil and something overcame me like an animal was trying to split my skin open and escape. I started squirming. I clutched my chest and felt for my heart but I couldn’t feel its gradually quickening beating.
I gasped and tried to speak but only silent air came out. I tried to scream again but nothing came out. I was trapped. I started kicking, trying to inhale some oxygen but I soon grew tired and my stick- like legs stopped. As is starving myself wasn’t enough, God wanted to punish and mock me some more.
I lay there motionless, my eyes transfixed on the fog.
Goodbye cruel world, I thought, as I took my final breath before everything turned pitch black.