A Court of Secrets and Darkness

1

Take me anywhere but here.

My first waking thought, and my last thought before I went to sleep. Those five simple words whispered in my ear any chance there was, although they seemed harmless enough, I knew what it was a synonym for. The many rounds of therapy I'd tried had taught me to alter my thoughts to be less dark and dramatic, more specific and temporary. I had many versions of the one sentiment I would not allow myself to think.

I don't want to be at work right now.

I am bored with my life.

I want change.

Take me anywhere but here.

It helped, as therapy was supposed to, but lying to yourself is a lot less effective than lying to others.

My partner of seven years placed the coffee cup on my bedside table and kissed me goodbye as he left for work.

"You're the best," I mumbled, trying to crawl into a sitting position to prevent falling back asleep and having to down a cold coffee. I grabbed my phone and scrolled through the news until I wasn't fighting to keep my eyelids open any more. I dragged myself through the usual routine, getting to work on time. Take me anywhere but here kept whispering in my ear, growing more persistent these last few weeks. I had to keep my mind very occupied to not allow it space to enter, so I pulled out another of my tricks that the therapist suggested and began going through my times tables mentally. I got up to the six times tables before work finally picked up enough to occupy my entire mental space. I was a barista at a busy café, a job I had while I studied at uni and had never managed to 'move up' from. I had dreaded the idea of being stuck in this job, not chasing my real career dreams, but two years of rejection was all I could take. So I settled, and focussed all my energy getting through each 24 hours alive.

I drove home on autopilot, not remembering the drive once I arrived home. I knew that was bad, but I didn't have the energy to change it. Home. Caffeine. Chores. Going through the motions was the best way to try and pull myself out of this. I put on music, probably loud enough to be a little rude to our neighbours, hopefully loud enough to drown out my singing along. Despite the sound thumping in the walls, I still felt a huge silence throbbing within.

I tried to remember how I had gotten out of these holes before, but it didn't matter. Everything was distorted when my emotions were like this. I just had to go through the motions until it eased, and I felt human again.

"You alright?" Luke shouted over the noise when he got home. I turned it down but didn't answer, and he joined me in the kitchen drying dishes while I washed.

Later, when we were cuddled up on the couch, Luke asked me again if I was okay. We had watched a movie together, a Friday night routine, although I wasn't even sure which movie, but now the credits were nearly over. Where had I gone? I was not glad to be back. I must have seemed really off for him to ask about it.

"Yeah, just, lost in it," I feigned interest in the movie. I knew he wouldn't push more; he never did.

"I'm going to bed."

"Be there shortly." We kissed and he went to bed, while I kept staring. Sometimes sleep was a nice escape but in my current state of mind I dreaded bringing tomorrow closer, where I had to push through all of this again. It was like trying to walk underwater. I kept losing my footing and wanted to drown instead.

I wasn't sure how much more time had passed before I finally broke my stasis and went to bed. Luke was still awake, still in some capacity aware of my mood when he rolled to spoon me, a rare gift. He was the little spoon of our relationship.

Luke had only begun to acknowledge the black hole swirling inside me last year, when he found me hanging by a rope. He had no idea about the previous three attempts, always on the same day, the three years before. But each time I hadn't taken enough pills, hadn't managed to cut quite deep enough, so I vowed to stop making the same mistakes. And tried hanging myself instead.

He wasn't meant to come home. But he'd forgotten his phone so half-way to work he turned around, to come in time to 'save me'. I did not feel saved. Six months of therapy later he wasn't looking at me so much, wasn't watching any more, as the suicide anniversary came around again. I learnt from my mistakes. This year I'd try something different.

***

I loved my car, I really did, which was why I hadn't tried this method earlier. But I told myself, with every hope, that it wouldn't matter if I totalled my car in the process because I wouldn't be alive to care about the damage or have to deal with the consequences. A selfish point of view, but I had long since accepted that about myself. Suicide was the selfish, cowardly way to deal with my pain, by palming it off to everyone else. My heart was too black to care enough to try another way.

I'd been scouting for a good spot for weeks. Going on evening drives to find an empty open road, where I could get up to speed, not risk other lives, and wrap myself round a tree. In the past week, I'd driven past my chosen spot three times, each time feeling like a little test –will I, won't I?

When I left the next evening for a drive, Luke didn't think anything of it. Selfish of me, but we had sex before I did leave, a parting gift, a last goodbye. Luke probably thought I was in a good mood. Suicidality made my sex drive take a nose-dive, and in the last year we'd stopped using protection, saying we were ready for children if they happened along. Did Luke realise I'd started avoiding it even more since then?

Part of me hoped a child would make running from death easier, part of me didn't want to curse a child to be made of the same bleak genetics I was. Each month though, my period came and I wept with relief. Just the hormones, really.

I had the radio off and all the windows down, as I got onto the stretch of road I'd selected. Wind roared in my ears as I pushed my foot down further, creeping over the speed limit, doubling it. This road had no houses I could see, lined with old trees with trunks wider than my car. I saw no other cars. My heart started to pound louder, and I could feel it in my chest, where I normally felt empty. My breaths came easier, the cold air searing my insides. About to die, I finally felt truly alive in this body. I thanked whatever higher being there was for this gift of feeling alive in my body, as my last feeling. As my car rocketed faster than it had ever gone, I stopped looking at the speedo and selected a large tree off the side of the road. I steered gently towards it, not following the road anymore and kept my foot flat to the floor. Instinctively, I closed my eyes right before the crash.