Club Nadir
Page 14
Relaxing, Audrey enjoyed the alcohol coursing through her veins. The light-headedness remained a welcome pleasure. Only after flotsam washed over the edge of the tub onto the floor did the spell break.
She wasn’t in a remote paradise. She sat immersed in the solitude of her being, in a two-bedroom apartment. A lone soul with only a cat for a companion.
Stretching out a foot, she used her toes to twist off first the hot water, and then cold. In the process water sloshed up over her chin, across pursed lips. Absentmindedly she licked away the salty water, mistaking bath salts for tears. As if she had filled the tub with sadness.
Her body shuddered with sadness.
She didn’t want to go on any longer.
Pushing with both legs her shoulders rose out from the water. Audrey sat up straight. She wiped away tears. Then she reached up to feel along the shelf for the razor blade. Its metal felt smooth and cool compared to the heat of bathwater. By feel, she slid it to the edge of the shelf before pinching it between her fingers.
Twisting it in the dim light she studied its blade. Its edge indeed looked sharp. The point especially held a dangerous appeal. No doubt within her hand could be the solution she sought—if only she possessed the will to do it.
Audrey raised her left hand out of the water. She turned her wrist up. Delicate ridges of tendons awaited just below the skin.
Lengthwise, not across. That’s how to do it, she thought. Don’t screw this up too.
Simple. Easy to do. Easier to screw up. All it took was guts, determination.
It took overwhelming sadness, loss, pain, and loneliness.
Cut deep, swift, long. Repeat. Don’t hesitate.
Don’t think, just do.
Do it, do it, do it.
The image of blade, of wrist, of fiery-orange sunset water blurred before bleary eyes.
“I don’t need any of you,” Audrey blubbered, bearing down with the razor. Its point bit in deep, stinging as it penetrated skin. Although pain screamed through her arm, a peaceful silence filled her mind.
A crimson line followed the blade several inches down her wrist. Shadowy rivulets ran down her arm to drip carelessly into still water. Like ink, her blood sank, danced, diffused. It looked so beautiful, so peaceful, Audrey wanted to see it again. This time more clearly.
First she placed the razor blade into her other hand. Gripping it firmly took concentration and effort, the pain being great when working her fingers. Then, after wiping away tears, she watched clearly as she cut into her other wrist.
This time the cutting pain barely felt sufficient compared to the pain still screaming through her other hand. This second cut, more shallow and much shorter, resounded with a white-noise of pain several decibels lower than the first.
She could do no more. Instead she dropped the blade, letting it sink away into the water. Both arms splashed in. The roiling water quickly grew dark, like the depths of her soul.
Audrey could feel the guilt rushing out of her, as the candlelight dimmed.
It should be too soon for the candles to burn out, she thought, before the candlelight completely faded away. But it didn’t matter. Peace had finally come to her.
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