The Choice, Reid Knight [universal ebook reader .TXT] 📗

There are times in our life when we feel like dying. And there are those times when we’re on the top of the world. These are the points of extreme in our life. They — these extremes — are the ones that impact our lives. Everything else is just plain old-school drama and melodrama. The wheels just keep going. Only once in a while a rugged, sharp stone raises it’s head and the point when the unsuspecting face of the wheel meets the pointed nose of the pebble — that point of collision — constitutes an extreme. She dumps him because she feels all out of love. That is not an extreme. That is just a culmination of some seemingly harmless events into a decisive one. It doesn’t change her perspective of life. She still loves her Dad and hates her step-mom. Maybe it gives her more time to hang out with the college hunk, who had started to show interest in her recently, but that is just plain old-school drama and melodrama. It doesn’t matter.

What now really mattered to Aaron was the syringe his shaking hand clutched. This felt like a deja vu of some old psych-thriller he had seen where the guy is so addicted that he keeps jabbing the needle again and again hoping there are some left-overs in it. But Aaron realized that all of that was underrated. The first shot was like punching the wall; he didn’t feel a thing. He took another shot, his fingers trembling with despair and anticipation. That felt like a drop of water in a pot of ink. He took another, and the darkness started to diffuse. And now he held the syringe, refilled with another shot of watered coke, knowing too well that this was getting out of hand. His brain still throbbed like a misplaced heart inside the skull. His heart sat in some dark, cold place inside him, thumping wearily. His nerves cried for salvation. He cried for absolution. But he knew he was too lost to be saved, in too deep to be recovered. He plunged the needle in his arm, and let the sweet-tongued illusionists flow through his blood to the nerves. He looked at the mixture in the cup. There was still some left. He almost heard an evil laugh resounding in his ears. Yes, he would plunge it again. And yet again. And yet again. Till he could feel no more.

Text: Reid Knight
Publication Date: 08-31-2012

All Rights Reserved