The storm assaulted Cal the moment he stepped out onto the catwalk. Heavy winds caused him to wobble, while the sound of rain hitting tin was enough to drown out the usual noise of traffic.
However Cal was unperturbed. Having already made up his mind, he took the few steps towards the railing and looked over.
'Figures.'
His apartment complex is only two stories. In other words, nowhere near high enough for him to guarantee a quick and clean cross over to the other side. Maybe if he were to angle himself right. Head first could do some serious damage and had a decent chance of success, but it wasn't certain enough for his liking. Knowing his luck lately, he'll just end up paralyzed from the neck down, but none the less alive.
With a sigh he made his way down to the ground floor, stepped out into the heavy rain and onto the path along the main road.
The path was mostly deserted. Save for a few unlucky people who got caught in the weather for one reason or another. A few spared Cal glances, varying from curiosity to concern as he walked through the storm barefoot and seemingly without a care. But ultimately all decided to leave him alone. Preferring to get out of the storm as soon as possible.
To his right traffic flowed heavy despite the late time and poor driving conditions. That's nothing new though. The roads were always busy, day or night, clear or stormy.
Any other night, this would be annoying. His apartment complex was right on the main road, so sleep was often more annoying to get than it would otherwise be because of it. He got use to it eventually, but today, it was that exact annoyance of 24/7 traffic he was counting on.
Looking to his left Cal saw the warm lights of open stores and restaurants lining the ground floor of the multistory buildings, uncaring for the storm raging just outside.
That was just how life was in the city here. Time was money, and people would be damned if they were going to waste money. So despite the late times or horrible weather, unless the furniture was flying away, or roads were unusable, people worked.
As Cal walked through the storm he expected discomfort, for the desire to turn around and return to the warmth of his apartment. Yet the feeling of rain on his skin was almost soothing. Even the wind only helped to push him forward.
'Odd. Why do I feel so... relaxed? Calm?'
Not even ten minutes ago he was distraught. He had just lost the little he still had and was on his way to kill himself this very instant. He should be depressed, scared, or even angry.
Angry that this is what his life amounted to. Angry at the fact that with a single lie, his life ended as he knew it. He barely had a life to begin with. So why? Why did he have to lose even the little he still had? He drew the short straw yet again. As he always seemed to do.
No. That's not entirely true.
Yes, Lara's stunt was unfair, that much was true. What could he do? Pleading his case would have done nothing. No one was going to believe him over her.
At least that's what he tells himself.
In the end, he hardly even tried. He fled. He gave up, and now here he was. It was just an excuse to go through with what he was already thinking of doing. Lara just gave him a convenient final reason.
But what about before that?
He had been dealt a great hand in life all things considered. He was born into a incredibly successful family, and was the only one in line to take over as head. All he had to do was focus.
The death of his father was unfortunate. The overbearing treatment from his mother that followed only added to the stress his mind was under. But again, did he really try? He could of sought help. Therapy. Something to help sort out the mess of his feelings. Anything. Yet he fled then as well, just as he did from work and Lara, and as he is doing right now.
He was dealt a great hand.
He just didn't know how to play it.
So yes, he should be angry. Not at his mother, or Lara. But at himself for running away, again and again.
He should be furious. Or at least disappointed.
Not relaxed.
But that's exactly what he felt as he walked down the footpath. Relaxed.
It's like the weight of everything has been lifted off his shoulders. No. Not like. That's exactly what it is. Thinking back, from the moment he decided he was going to commit suicide he started to feel lighter.
'I guess that makes sense. Nothing matters anymore. I don't need to stress about work. About making ends meet. About life.'
It all means nothing to him now. The continuous stress of tomorrow was gone. Because for him, there wasn't going to be one.
Instead that ever present stress is replaced by a deep calm. Like nothing he had felt before.
It was such a stark change.
It was... intoxicating.
He was high on death.
The mere thought of death is usually enough to strike a strong feeling of unease, if not outright fear, in the mind of anyone who thought about it. Not a deep calm. Death's an unknown, yet inevitable. No one knows what comes after death. People have hopes, beliefs and expectations about what follows, but the only truth known, is that no one truly knows.
Some expect nothing. That once you die, that's the end.
Others believe in a form of after life, whether heaven or hell, reincarnation or a spirit realm.
While a few more of the slightly delusional groups hope for transmigration into a fantasy world.
Cal had his own thoughts on the matter, but mostly he was just curious. To him the unknown wasn't something to be feared, it was something to be discovered. To learn about and understand.
And he was soon to learn the ultimate unknown.
A little flame of excitement started to rise within him.
*Splash*
Until it was doused by gutter water and replaced with annoyance.
"Dick!"
Cal gave the passing truck a piece of his mind by way of curses and both middle fingers. Sure, he was already soaked head to toe because of the storm, but there was a difference between rain water and what comes straight from the gutter.
But thanks to it snapping him out of his thoughts, he looked up and saw he's destination.
A pedestrian bridge that stretched over the multilane road.
He walked the rest of the way to the bridge. The heavy wind still blowing from behind him, as if the storm itself was urging him on. Telling him to follow through.
As he climbed the steps, he expected to have second thoughts. For the fear to start bubbling up inside of him, but it never came. His thoughts remained clear. Only going over the plan in calm acceptance.
He had nothing to go back to anyway. Any second thoughts he may have, would be pointless.
The plan itself is simple; jump off the bridge into the high speed traffic below.
Landing on his head should be plenty from that height. Especially onto something like asphalt.
Unlike his apartment complex, the bridge stood about three stories above the road. If by some unfortunate circumstance the fall is not enough, the follow up from an unlucky driver should be the final nail in the coffin.
Cal would be lying if he said he won't feel bad for the driver he lands in front of. It's likely to be a rather traumatic experience them, something that will stick with them for life.
But there's a small, selfish part of him that hopes that's true.
Even now, while he's only moments away from killing himself, there's a part of him that wants to be remembered as something other than a failure.
Isn't that only normal? The desire to be remembered. To leave your mark, no matter how small. Even if it's by just one more person, for one more generation.
"You only truly die when you are forgotten."
Cals murmured words are lost into the storm as he moves to the railing.
Leaning over, he watches as the traffic flies underneath him in a blur of lights. The sound of engines muffled and lost into the roar of the raging storm as he climbs over the slippery railing and stands on the edge of the bridge. And waits.
'Come on. A truck. A bus or something.'
Timing was everything. If he jumped willy-nilly he could end up in front of one of those small smart cars, doing more damage to the car than himself. Or worse, he could accidently clothesline a motorcyclist, potentially taking them with him.
Even if he found a truck, jumping too soon means they could swerve. Too late and he may just land on the truck itself, surviving and surfing his way down the highway.
'Ah, that should do the trick.'
Further down the road Cal spots a large eighteen wheeler barreling down the highway, passing traffic at a speed faster than the allowed limit of this road.
'Idiot. Driving something that big, that recklessly. Maybe I won't feel too bad after all.'
Having found his target, Cal shuffles over a lane to line himself up with its path and leans forward as he holds onto the slippery railing behind, ready to let go when the moment presents itself.
"Hey! What are yo- WAIT! NO!"
A sudden yell reaches Cal's ears through the storm, startling him.
Under normal circumstances, this wouldn't be enough to make him lose his balance. His grip on the railing would hold him steady enough through the jolt that runs through him. However, these weren't normal conditions. The railing was already slippery from the storm, so finding his grip wasn't easy.
Yet it wasn't the wet railing that caused him to fall. Despite the difficulty of maintaining his hold, he would of managed.
No. It was a sudden pickup in the storm. A sudden gust of wind, stronger than the rest. Not by much, but just enough for his body to be pushed forwards. Just enough for his loosened fingers to slide over the railing before he could tighten them.
As he fell, Cal managed to turn his head enough to catch a glimpse of the voices owner.
A police officer.
One of the people he passed on his way here must have been concerned enough to dial emergency services.
'Really? You see someone leaning over the highway and your first instinct is to yell?'
Cal's thought's slowed while he fell. The last moments of his life passing by at a crawl as he looked at the officer. Shock and panic evident in his features as he dashed toward Cal.
'He's young. Probably fresh from training. Not that I know what protocol is under these circumstances, but that can't have been it. Poor guy. So I end up feeling bad anyway. Well, give it a moment and I won't feel anything. Hopefully'
After a moment of thought Cal turned his attention below, his eyes widening slightly as he see's something he would never have expected to see.
Himself.
Or more accurately, a reflection of himself. In the visor of someone's helmet.
A motorcyclist.
And not too far behind them, the speeding truck.
Deep guilt.
That's what he ended up feeling in his last moments as the biker collided with him at speed. The impact sent them both tumbling and sliding across the slick surface of the road, placing them in the direct path of the truck.
The last thing he saw as he slid was the blinding headlights of the truck.
And though he didn't see the fate of that unfortunate biker. It was obvious what was to become of them. Even if the trucker was paying full attention, they were going to fast to stop in time, or even swerve to dodge the sudden obstacles.
'So, that's how it is? Even in my last moments, I'm still messing up? Dragging someone down with me. This... wasn't how it was supposed to go.'
They always say to not go towards the light, but what if the light comes to you? Attached to the front end of a thirty tone truck barreling down a road at a hundred kilometers an hour?