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The Girl in the Video (ARC)

Page 8

by Michael David Wilson


  We’d never be safe.

  Never be happy.

  Smiles only surface level.

  I knew what I had to do.

  Not just for me, but for us.

  For Rachel.

  For Kenichi.

  I wrote a quick note to them—a note they would understand. Then walked up the two flights of stairs to my attic-office, the third and final floor of the house. Calm and clear-headed for the first time in a long time. I picked up the large bottle of Jack Daniels from atop the bookcase, took a large swig, and opened the sliding doors to the balcony.

  ***

  I’m standing on the balcony now. Looking up at the blue sky, the crisp cool wind kissing my face, the fresh dew-scented air filling my lungs.

  For once, I feel alive.

  For once, I feel the moment.

  I step closer to the edge, look down at the grey swathe of concrete below.

  Take a long deep breath and let the energy of the earth swim within me.

  Whatever I do, wherever I go, Yuki Yamanaka will always find me.

  Whether awake or asleep she will be there.

  And she will always have something over me.

  The power of possibility. The power of what if.

  Her words echo, her words always echo: I still have something on you, Freddie.

  Say it and it becomes true.

  Becomes reality.

  She has everything and she has nothing. All the dark secrets untold.

  All the guilt and the shame and the self-hatred and the lies I’ve told others, even the lies I’ve told myself.

  I cannot let her win.

  I cannot be consumed by the darkness any longer.

  I want to be set free.

  To set my family free.

  You jump off something just three times your height and it’s fatal fifty percent of the time.

  That’s all it takes.

  At six-foot tall the odds are in freedom’s favour.

  Another deep breath—the best yet.

  This is my decision, my move, my salvation.

  I cross myself and roll the dice.

  “I’m sorry, Rachel.”

  THE PERPETUAL MOTION MACHINE CATALOG

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