The Edward King Series Books 1-3 Page 3

  “Yeah, yeah…” Eddie directed to the ground as he wobbled drearily back into the house and sat himself down in the kitchen.

  “Don’t know how you did it,” Jenny declared, locking the front door and following Eddie into the kitchen, her hand in Lacy’s. “We had it locked, bolted, everything. How you manage to do that in your sleep…”

  Eddie pretended to ignore the ridicule, pouring Coco-Pops into his bowl to find a mere spoonful come falling out.

  “Why don’t we have any Coco-Pops?”

  “We?” Jenny shot him an inquisitive look.

  “Perhaps you can diss our cereal choices when it’s us sleeping on your sofa bed every night,” Lacy backed her partner up. “Speaking of which, not that I know living with lesbians is probably every guy’s deepest fantasy, but we have just moved in together. And you’re kinda shitting on that. When are you getting a job and your own place?”

  Jenny and Lacy both shot him the same look. He had gotten used to that look. He grew up with that look. He remembered when they were sixteen years old, suggesting to Jenny they should nick a few beers from the minifridge hidden in her dad’s garage. It was the same look she wore then in 1989 that she wore as she leant against the stove in 1995; and somehow, since meeting Lacy a year ago, she had managed to learn to put the exact same look on her face too.

  He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. He repressed a fart, feeling that an unwelcome guest should not release such a thing.

  “Seriously, guys, of all days, why today?” They both looked away uncomfortably. Their breakfast was eaten in silence.

  *

  The rain hit Eddie’s skin hard, merging into particles of liquid that engulfed his vision until he couldn’t see. He rubbed his eyes, adamantly pushing the water out of his vision. He wasn’t going to let the rain deter him. Not today.

  Putting up his hood so as to avoid the weather that attacked him so violently, he slipped his hands into his pockets and traipsed down the path. He knew the route well. Half-way down the path and four graves to his left. That is where he stopped and knelt.

  He stroked his hand down the tombstone.

  CASSY KING

  GONE BUT NOT FORGOTTEN

  1976-1984

  A tear accumulated in the corner of his eye and got lost in the rain. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. He took a moment of silence.

  A moment of silence was never enough.

  He lifted the stale flower being destroyed by pelting water and crushed it in his hand, picturing what she would look like now. She’d had long, auburn hair that would have only grown to accentuate her cutely petite facial features so well. She would have been beautiful. Scrap that; she would have been stunning. A knockout.

  Now she was just ashes. Dust in your hand.

  He felt responsible. He felt guilty. He was the one chasing her on the bike. He was the one who encouraged her to go faster. So much so when he finally realised what could happen, his words got lost in the wind and it was too late.

  Eleven years without her. Eleven years that ruined his adolescence, tore apart his family, and left him with an empty space in his heart. Eleven years in which he had become a twenty-year-old without a home and a shitty, meaningless job.

  Not only could her life have ended up different, so could his.

  After glancing at his watch, he understood his time was up. Another year gone by; another year without her. Time for his doctor’s appointment. Time to put on a brave face.

  Time to put on the mask the rest of the world sees.

  7

  Eddie perched blankly on the edge of the chair. With every passing year would come the annual renewal of his antidepressants; it was always the same time of year, and always coincided with the anniversary of his sister’s death, which is probably why he always associated such negative feelings with it. They would check his blood pressure, listen to his heart, and talk monotonously at him before signing him off on another year of emotion-killing pills.

  It’s amazing how they even remember my name, he contemplated, realizing it would appear on the computer screen.

  The point of this repetitive check-up was lost on him. What would be the worst that could happen if his blood or heart was affected? He died? So what? Death would be a welcome friend he would greet with a pat on the back.

  “And how are you feeling in yourself, Eddie?”

  “Oh, fine, Doctor,” he lied, knowing if he said anything different they would likely section him, or increase his medication. As much as he hated them, he still wanted to feel some of his emotions, and if they upped his dose of Prozac any further it would likely numb him completely.

  Though maybe that would be nice, to not feel… No shame about living on his friend’s sofa, no sense of loss for his missing sister, no overpowering solitude plaguing his mind night after night.

  He trudged away from the health centre, prescription in hand. The rain had subsided and the sun poked between two stingy clouds, almost as if it was Cassy speaking back to him from above. He hadn’t even started his day at work and already he was soaked through. His hair turned crispy as the rain-water dried, and his shirt and trousers were heavy with damp.

  His foot had barely placed itself over the threshold of the mundane office building when his boss, Larry, requested his presence in his office. Larry stood by the door with the stance he thought was so authoritative; with his arms folded, but with one hand pointed up and resting on his chin, watching over his office of worker bees, thinking he was the big man overseeing a large group of people who all thought he was a God; when in truth, they all thought he was an arsehole.

  “Take a seat, Eddie, Edmuno, the Edatron,” Larry instructed as Eddie dragged his feet through the office door and onto the wooden chair sitting opposite Larry’s desk. Larry sat back in his large, no-expense-spared leather office seat.

  Eddie looked around the office. Trophies adorned the shelves, but no pictures of family. Eddie peered closer at the trophy nearest to him. It was for fourth place in a contest at sports day he had won as a child.

  “Is it raining outside then, Eddieboy?” Larry enquired, surveying Eddie’s dishevelled appearance.

  “Mm.” Eddie nodded, not quite sure how to dignify such a ridiculous question with an answer.

  “Listen, I need to talk to you Ed. Can I call you Ed?”

  Eddie rubbed his sinus, momentarily closing his eyes, assembling the energy to give a shit. “Sure.”

  “Great, Ed.” Larry shifted in his seat, clasping his fingers together and leaning toward Eddie like a bad therapist might. “Listen, we are currently going through some major issueromees in the company, as I am sure you are aware. We’re all here like, oh man, how are we going to fix this cadoodle? Some major overhauls have had to be endured, in order to keep the company above board. We are losing greens, dosh, brass tacks, and, let’s be frank, we are in danger of going under. Undermundo. Underastic. You are aware of this, yes?”

  Eddie shrugged. He was sure he’d heard it at one point, he just hadn’t cared. All that filled his mind were the words my God, you are such a tool.

  “Great, well, you see, as such we are having to cut some losses. Snip -snip, Ed, you see? This involves us having to make some expendable resources expendable. Unfortunately, my friend, you are one of those expendable resources.”

  “What?” Eddie rubbed his hand over his forehead and through his hair. It felt like Larry was taking forever to get to his point.

  “Ed, we are prepared to offer you a redundancy package that we feel is, well, generous. Unfortunately, that is our only option, and we are going to have to part ways. Apologies.”

  Eddie looked back blankly at his poor excuse for a boss. He didn’t react. He knew it was him. He knew if anyone was going to be sacked, it would be him. He was tempted to shout that. Shout out, “Hey, guys, guess what? The biggest arsehole here has fired the second-biggest arsehole here!”

  But he didn’t. Instead, he returned a gormless stare back at Larry.
He didn’t move, he didn’t blink, he didn’t speak. He just zoned out, numbed all emotions, numbed any panic, numbed his mind. Wished he had been given some more of that Prozac afterall.

  Breaking the awkward silence, Eddie stood, picked up his bag and turned on his heel. Without looking back, he exited the office, the room, and then the building. He didn’t look back.

  As he left the office, he checked his phone. He had a message from his housemates, Jenny and Lacy. They had signed up to adopt a child. They knew it wasn’t a complete possibility yet, but they had put their name down. Followed by their new house together, one Eddie would not be able to be a part of.

  He conveniently dropped his phone on the ground, followed by his bag, and just began running.

  8

  It was the bridge Eddie had always imagined ending things on. It was a suspension bridge, adjoining two parts of Bristol. Beneath was a big drop. If he aimed to the side, he could land on the surface, hopefully on his head, severely damaging his brain and snapping his neck, leaving him deceased for definite.

  Or, there was the water directly below him. He couldn’t swim, so he would surely drown. He wasn’t sure which would be most painless. Either way, it would be over in minutes. Everything, all of it, over, done.

  The sweet release he craved gawked back at him at the edge of his fingertips. He was so close; his dry mouth could almost taste the end. The sound of cars motoring behind him grew faint beneath the boom, boom of his heart thumping at his chest.

  His right foot gently pressed itself against the ledge, feeling it buckle slightly. With a few more ascending steps, he found himself hovering on the top of the fence, beholding the deathly drop below him.

  He was so close now. Just one movement and that was it, it was done, he would exist no more.

  Cars sped past him, a few honking their horns, very few caring enough to stop; though one or two did. From behind him, he heard a woman shout: “What are you doing?”

  He didn’t care. He let the words get lost. They couldn’t stop him now.

  The water that would complete the drop was so distant he couldn’t even see the ripples. It was surely freezing. If drowning didn’t kill him, the cold would.

  His eyes closed.

  “Stop!” came from a stranger behind him. A man’s voice.

  Eddie glanced over his shoulder. He didn’t get a good look at the person, but he saw a police uniform. The officer was stood a few metres away, reaching his hand out, edging closer with each precariously placed step.

  “Stop moving closer!” Eddie cried out.

  How on earth had the police gotten there already? He had planned to be dead and gone before the police had any chance. They must have been driving past.

  “Okay, I’ll stop. But you’ve got to come down from there, son.”

  Son? He was nobody’s son.

  He vigorously shook his head, taking a deep inhale of breath.

  “It’s no good. Please don’t try to save me. I’m done.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true. Come on, why don’t you come on down and we’ll talk about it?”

  With a longer glance back, he saw the policeman, middle-aged with a moustache, a large crowd of onlookers gathering behind him, watching, hand over their mouths, frozen to the spot, terrified as to what they might see.

  “You enjoying what you see?” he shot at them. “You voyeurs, here to watch a man die… You stopped for nothing else!”

  “Don’t worry about them, worry about me. Just look into my eyes. That’s it. What’s your name?”

  “Eddie.”

  He turned his head back to the drop and braced himself.

  “Eddie. Nice name. How about you just come down off that ledge and we’ll talk about things, yeah? See if we can figure out what’s troubling you.”

  “Issue is, Officer… you seem to be under the impression suicide is something to prevent. Something to discourage. For me, it’s my way out. It’s my salvation.”

  He turned his head and looked the officer in the eyes.

  “For me, it’s the only opportunity I have.”

  He scrunched his eyes tightly, breathed in, and pushed the weight of his body forward, allowing gravity to do the rest.

  The sounds of the officer shouting: “No!”; the shocked screams of the onlookers; the shake of the fence… it was all lost in the speed of the wind shooting past his ears. He descended in slow motion. He even smiled.

  He enjoyed it. The feeling that it was all nearly over.

  With a crash as harsh as a blade against the body, he fired into the water and sank further and further down. He made no attempt to thrash out, no attempt to find the surface. He relaxed his body.

  After a minute’s rest, he convulsed. His mouth gaped open in despairing reach for oxygen that didn’t come. By this time, he couldn’t even see the surface of the water above him, let alone get there.

  It hurt. It was a stabbing pain that, no matter how much he wheezed inwards, he couldn’t fix. The limbs of his body shot in numerous directions, uncontrollably spasming. He felt his arms and his legs lose their function.

  Then it went black. He could feel no more.

  9

  Eddie’s eyes startled as if they were brand-new. His vision lacked focus and his head was a haze. He rubbed his eyes in hope that this would fix the problem. It didn’t. He tried opening his eyes wide, stretching his eye lids apart. As his vision finally returned to normal he looked back and forth, taking in his surroundings.

  He was in a field. The sun was shining, pelting hot rays upon his skin, lighting up the clear, blue sky. It was a perfect day. It was hot, but it didn’t burn. It was cool, but without a breeze. As he climbed to his feet he was startled by how light he felt; it was as if gravity was no longer pushing him down, like he could jump up and feel nothing.

  He peered into the distance, and all he could see was green grass and blue sky stretching into the landscape. There were no trees, no people, no separating fence, nothing; just fields as far as he could see. He ran his hands back through his hair, pushing strands out of his face. His hair no longer felt like the greasy mess he had let it become; instead it was soft, clean, and left a pleasant smell of lavender on his fingers.

  Edging forward on the perfectly groomed grass, soft under his feet, he urged himself to find someone, something, anything that would give him an indication as to where he was.

  His memory came back in flickers. The bridge, the police officer, the jump. The last thing he remembered was struggling for oxygen, his body convulsing… He had done it! He had ended everything. He was dead.

  And was this heaven?

  He remembered this feeling of being so alive, yet having no air passing through you and no beat in your chest; the familiar sensations of lightness, the feeling of resolution, life no longer weighing you down.

  “Ahem,” a cough came from behind Eddie and he abruptly spun around. Before him stood an upright man in a white suit checking a few papers on a clipboard he held in front of him. Eddie scoffed at the cliché of it all.

  “Of course there’s a guy in a white suit.”

  “Edward King?” Eddie nodded. “Excellent. Welcome to the next stage.”

  Eddie grinned. This was it. He was going to find out what it was all about. He regretted nothing about the choice he had made.

  “I am going to take you to –” The man stopped mid-sentence, distracted by something on the sheet of paper in front of him. He did a double take, making sure he had read it correctly. His expression turned from pleasure to concern. He leered up at Eddie, a curious repulsion drifting to solemn sympathy. “I do apologise, but it says here that you committed suicide.”

  “I did.”

  “Oh. Well I’m afraid that’s an abomination. The misuse of life. I can’t grant you entry. Sorry.”

  The man smiled with empty compassion. Before Eddie could react or comprehend what that meant, he felt all the weight in his body and the anxiety of his mind return to his veins as his feet w
ere dragged downwards. Glancing at his ankles, he gaped at roots from the ground consuming them, surrounding and encapsulating his legs with twines and weeds.

  “What – what’s going on?”

  It was no good. The man continued to stand and watch with a vacant expression on his face. Eddie was helpless.

  His ankles were now going, intertwined with the roots that tugged him further and further beneath. Eddie thrashed out for something to hold onto, his legs disappearing and his waist following, but it was no good. He was steadily being taken, sinking and sinking and sinking and sinking…

  He stuck his arm out and grabbed the man’s ankle, who repulsively flinched away as Eddie was dragged too far down for his arms to be able to find any more movement. He drew one final breath as only his head remained and he was taken under.

  As the blue sky faded from above him, he had a feeling that could be the last time he ever saw it.

  10

  Eddie howled in agony as his back hit the ground with a thud. The bumps and cracks of the stone ground dug into his spine with a sickening crash. He no longer felt light, painless, or content. He felt everything. Every sore reminiscence, every moment of anguish, every illness he had ever suffered, every relative he had ever grieved, all hitting him with one psychological blow.

  Once the pain of the harsh landing on the surface subsided and all he had left was the emotional torture, the heat hit him. It was intense, humid, musky; his skin was burning already. Rubbing his hazy head, he propped himself up and beheld his surroundings.

  All around him were various mounds of rock bounded by spewing lava. The lava lashed out at the borders of the stone, grasping at the ankles of the suffering victims perched upon them, their screams, whimpers, and begs reverberating around him. He was rested on a rock that meant if he stuck to the dead centre, he would likely be safe from the lava. He had a feeling, however, that it wouldn’t be that easy.