Thank you, Mel! Inspiration struck ... partly because of what you said ... and I went for it! Here is the extended Short story version of "Goodbye" or "Roller-coaster" as I keep calling it.+18 --- READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. CONTROVERSIAL TOPICS.
Goodbye
My life ended on a day out. One intended to stop the depression.
The roller-coaster left the station: neon lights sparkling. My body was tense and quickened. My boyfriend sat next to me, brimming with excitement.
Moments later the ride shuddered to a screeching halt: the carriages stuck upside down. I froze with fear. At first I hoped they would rescue us.
Time passed by slowly. With every second I could feel my harness giving way. I said nothing to my boyfriend. He looked panic-stricken.
Uninvited thoughts seeped forth: the hurt, upset, tears, pain I brought to myself and those around me. It was like watching a black and white movie. Everything was numb.
The belt came loose. I tried to hold on for a moment, desperately. My clammy hands slipping and arms screaming with effort.
Rescue wasn’t coming. Terror climaxed for my passengers.
Silence rang out in my head. My boyfriend was hysterical; trying to reach me. I calmly looked to him. Tears streamed down his face. They ran down mine too. I was slipping ... but I wanted to let go.
I apologized to him with a look. A whisper escaped my lips as I plummeted.
“Catch me, God.”
“Come! Let’s ride the hell-raiser.” My boyfriend tugged at my hand, the warmth between our fingers slipping for just a second.
I let him lead me, pretending to be excited, a fake smile plastered over my face. It was easy to pretend these days. What wasn’t easy was shutting out the thoughts and guilt that stomped through my mind. The headache, which seemed to live with me now, offered me no release to enjoy a single day out.
A cool chill caught my cheek as we waited in line. It was pitch black out and no stars shone. The only illumination came from the neon lights that covered the park like flies. Kevin insisted on talking about the ride. I think he believed it helped me to get excited but I just wasn’t interested. It was only facts about how many loops it did and how fast exactly.
Thankfully the waiting line was not long, although my feet hurt by now. I kept the smile going. We’d been here all day. The attendants strapped us in to the ride, using a contraption of metal and foam over our shoulders. It was two people per cart. We were three carts from the front and only two from the back. Not the best seats but those took a longer wait.
Kevin grinned at me as the cart started moving. My stomach lurched as I tried to grin back. Did he know the thoughts? Could he see I was not enjoying this? Did he even want to know? Or had he fallen in love with the fake me?
The cart began its lazy but bumpy ascent, all the while we watched the World below disappear. What was once clear and easy to see became just a jumble of light. Kevin squeezed my hand.
“This is it ... ready?” he asked with obvious excitement in his voice.
Did I really have a choice not to be ready? I looked at him and nodded with a little hum. Did he see the fake happy squint around my eyes? Or did he see that I really just wanted to go home? Wherever home was. I was lost. That was the only way I could manage to explain it. I felt like I was encased within black heavy goo that I could neither move in nor shout for help from.
The cart zoomed off a moment later. It bounded through the first loop with ease. Everybody shouted and waved their hands in the air. I copied the movements. My body went through the motions of the ride. I felt the g-force pushing against my legs and stomach, my lungs fight for air, and my head lull as I was pushed around the corners. The neon lights became lines of colour as they shot passed my eyes too quickly for me to focus. Kevin was laughing ... I was laughing too, though I didn’t feel it. The adrenaline helped. I wondered briefly if this was what it was like for drug addicts; the helpless that silenced their thoughts with the aid of a needle.
It was the second loop that things came unstuck. Nobody really noticed it at first, except me. The cart had bounced a little too much on the turn. The people inside had been nudged more than they should have been forwards, as though something had stuck.
The brakes started to squeal on the cart in front of me. I noticed the brakes on our cart had also deployed. I could feel the vibrations, shaking and friction, trying to pull all of the bones out of my hands and turn them to sand. The sickness returned.
The third loop came. The screeching was almost deafening now. The other passengers had noticed something was wrong finally. They looked to each other, questioningly. The carts were slowing down when they shouldn’t have been. Kevin squeezed my hand again and without thinking I pushed back against his sweaty palm.
A massive bump later and the carts stuck, half way through the loop and upside down. I was thrown against my harness. I could feel my ribs, shoulders and collarbone screaming as the impact came. Involuntarily I grunted, as did many of the others. I had let go of Kevin’s hand. Survival instinct kicked in as my hands sought the holds on the metal structure to try and ease the weight now pushing against my shoulders.
After a second Kevin started talking again. “You okay? I-I don’t know what happened? Do you? Can you see anything?”
His voice was rushed and panicked, it grated against my skin like the cool night and tension was trying to do now. He sounded very much like I felt but I tried not to show it. “Nothing. I cannot see anything. They’ll rescue us. Hold tight.”
The other passengers were talking about the same thing. Over the pounding of my heart in my ears I could hear somebody crying and others whimpering. The man in front of me was praying. I could just about pick out the words over the thunderous sound of blood pouring around my ears. I took a deep breath then, pulling in the cold night air to refresh my lungs, realizing that I had not been breathing this whole time. Kevin saw my cue and gulped in air with a deep breath.
I turned my head quickly, to look at him, and regretted doing so. The headache was getting worse thanks to the blood rushing south. I felt like my head would explode, the pressure trying to push it apart. It forced a grunt from my pursed lips.
He looked like he was about to cry. My mouth tried to form some kind of comfort for him ... but it could not come. It stuck in my gullet like a fish bone. I wondered briefly if I could throw up while upside down. My stomach was considering it. I could feel the acid moving.
Time pushed on slowly like grains of tumbling sand through an egg timer. Occasionally a “whooping” sound would come from below – one of the other rides. The park still operated. I could only assume that rescue was coming, even though I didn’t hear any sirens. Maybe there were sirens, I thought quickly, but I cannot hear them because of the sound in my ears.
I felt a small click and a change in my harness. A sudden burst of adrenaline had me pulling in a quick breath. My entire body tensed; each muscle pulled back to become like brick against my frozen and small frame. My hands had let go of the holds, stupidly, to hold themselves out in front of me. What was I hoping my hands would do? Grasp hold of thin air before I could drop? The thought forced a chuckle.
Kevin had seen my reaction. Tears had started to pour from his eyes. “W-what happened? You okay? Is it?”
His tears travelled in the wrong direction. They crawled out of his eyes, soaking his upper cheeks, before continuing over his eyelids and on to his forehead, which was creased with a thick vein that pounded visibly.
“I’m okay,” I lied. I had figured out what had just happened. My harness was starting to give away. It had pushed out of one of the hooks and was continuing to move. I could feel it slipping as my shoulders squished against the top and were forced to roll forwards.
I don’t know why I lied. I could have told him and shared my panic but what good could that have done? Kevin was already hysterical. Telling him that my harness was failing would have had him screaming.
I wondered then how long the harness would hold. Two minutes? Until rescue came? Thirty seconds? There was no telling. I sat as still as I possibly could.
The lights on the cart began to blinker on and off. There was obviously something happening below. I prayed it was rescue. There were no engines on the ride, only brakes, which were beginning to smoke. Luckily the smell drifted away from us but I could see it illuminated by the blinking lights.
My hands were starting to go numb and I couldn’t feel my feet. I had to move. I needed blood circulation back to stop some of the pain. Unsteadily I took a gulp and tensed my stomach as I did what I could to reposition myself in the harness.
Another click happened as I wiggled. Panic reigned for that second and more. The bile came into my throat and I desperately swallowed it back. My lungs refused to allow oxygen in, my throat trying to completely close. The scare had the tears finally escaping my eyelids that had been trying eagerly to hold them back.
Kevin was too busy in his own World of panic to notice this time and I was grateful. I calmed myself down then, remembering what a teacher had told me before: in through the nose, out through the mouth, deep breaths and count to ten. It was a struggle to do even that as the headache tried to push out all logic.
I tried to focus my eyes on the ground below but it was too dark. My mind played games with me. Had I seen a rescue light in the distance? Or was it just another ride? Were there people below us with torches? Or was that the junk novelty stuff you could buy here?
My thoughts became consumed with the hope of getting down and the relief I would feel once my feet were on the floor. So much that I had forgotten the feeling of the harness slipping ... until it gave away.
I screamed as the harness flew open. It caught my shoulders as it bounced away, knocking my head once, which was already ringing with pain. Blackness came to my eyes, or was that just the night? I couldn’t tell.
Somehow I had managed to hang on. My wrist twisted as I grasped out to hold on for dear life. The scream continued until I ran out of air and even then it tried as my mouth hung open. The sobbing was instant as I dangled there. I tried to readjust my hands but with no luck. They hurt too much and I could not let go for long enough without panic rushing them back to the holds. Had I pulled or ripped one of my muscles? Probably. It hurt enough, telling me that some real damage had been done.
“God! Here! Come here! Give me your hand! Hang on!” Kevin was reaching out. He really was hysterical now. I could see the strain on his shoulders as he shifted his weight. His hand was close. I could grab it, if I could let go for long enough. The panic for the other passengers climaxed as they called out to help or tried to encourage me to reach for Kevin. There was not one dry eye that looked forward or urgently backwards at my body which was hanging by the handles.
I looked at his hand for a long time, noting the taut skin between his out stretched fingers, and the rough knuckles. He kept begging me to reach out for him but his pleas were silent to me.
My mind was elsewhere while my body struggled to hold on. My thoughts drifted over my depression and circumstances. Serenity floated over my body while my clammy hands attempted to slip, yet fought to stay, and now my arms ached with a new feeling. The pain in my wrists was almost unbearable as they were twisted around the foam holdings; desperately trying to stay tensed to hold on. The cold night air whipped around my legs and ankles, swaying my body slightly. The motion made the pressure on everything just that little bit worse.
Four years ago I’d seen my Dad’s body, hanging from the banister. I was the first to find him. I wondered for a while if he had planned for me to find him. He must have known I would be the first home from school. Had he wanted me to see that? Had it really gotten that bad? ... I realized now that, yes, it really could have gotten that bad. It was my fault. My arrival had put too much pressure on their relationship. I took the money away from drink and drugs.
Mum was addicted to drugs, mostly heroin. Every night I saw her injecting something and end up just staring at the ceiling. Most days I just had to have cereal for dinner because she could not cook. She would soil herself, regularly. I could never have any friends over because the house was falling apart. Every wall was stained from hip height down with puke and piss, and above hip height were yellow stains from smoke. She even left the needles lying around and pieces of tinfoil, and it always stunk.
Nobody at school knew what it was like. They would poke fun at me on a daily basis because I smelt or had messy hair or a hole in my uniform. If they knew what was happening back home, would they have said what they did? Probably. The World was a shitty place. The students took the last shreds of my confidence and esteem, to chew them up and finally spit them on the ground like a piece of gum.
Grandma was delusional. Whenever we visited, which was very rarely, she would throw biscuits at me or scream us out of the door again. Granddad was just as bad. He’d tried to touch me when I was young. His scabby fingers had tried to push into my panties. I’d run away for a while after that to slept on the streets for a night or two. I’d seen more than anybody my age could ever imagine but surely there were others out there like me? There must have been.
I did see a few like me in the hospital I stayed at for a while, after Social Services had stepped in and taken me away. They were just like me. Their eyes were like that of a china dolls, emotionless and just staring straight forward. The smiles were painted on to hide away the pain. They never spoke and neither did I. What could you say to them? Nothing. You each knew what it was like and the hopelessness of the situation.
I didn’t stay in the hospital for long though. It hurt my family too much and it was a strain to even visit me. I just guessed I was cutting into mother’s doping session time. I was a burden. Even dragging the scissors across my arm eventually didn’t take the pain away. My pale arms were covered in pink marks that I tried to keep hidden with silly plastic bracelets or long sleeves.
I was lucky enough to find Kevin but it was too late. I never trusted him and he could never know what I thought. I almost hated him at times. He had the life I had yearn for and it was just given to him. I had to work for everything I got. I knew I would hurt him like I eventually hurt everybody else. It was useless.
I always ended up hurting somebody ... just as they usually ended up hurting me back.
My thoughts returned to the present as my fingers slipped again. I readjusted the hold on the metal handles. There was no rescue coming, I knew that now. I gave up. It was a strange feeling that knowing. It settled through every pore and cell in my body like some unforgiving chiding a child took.
Kevin was still speaking at me quickly. I could see his lips moving but no sound was emerging. He was probably crying and sobbing between the words, coughing and choking it back, but I heard none of it. It was like watching a black and white film: I saw my body swinging there as I tried to hold on, Kevin reaching out, the carts stuck upside down, and the other passengers.
I felt none of it. Even the pain seemed a distant thing now as I watched on calmly. Not once did I wonder where that pain had disappeared too. There were no thoughts. I just knew that this was it. The day out that was supposed to end my depression, really was going to end the depression. It was giving me a way out. I could never have killed myself, even the cuts I made were too shallow, but here was a way to do it. All I had to do was let go. The World had seen me suffering and now it was finally helping me.
It helped me find a way to let go of the hurt and pain.
I looked to Kevin. An apology formed on my lips but the words never departed. I knew that even if I had managed to say those words he would never have heard them. It was better if I said nothing. If I said anything it only would have hurt him more.
I shot him one of my smiles ... but this time it was not fake. It was a true smile, that pulled back enough to give dimples and the front teeth, but it was calm. He did not understand nor do I ever think he will understand.
I let go. No panic coursed through my body. There was no pain or relief from having held on for so long. I felt no wind against my body as I fell. Even my wrists no longer talked to me. It was all gone.
A whisper escaped my lips as I plummeted.
“Catch me, God.”
