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Part 3 - Sphere Of Blackness
His face fell in an instant as did his mood, from the glorious expectation of that beatific smile being focused on him, to the sudden fury that he felt toward all women, and just as quickly into deep depression.
“I thought she was different. I thought she was my saving angel. Bitch!” He spat the words into the wind followed by a loud, drawn out “hoick” and a wad of green mucous.
He looked at the stub on his left hand where a pinky finger had once been and the deep depression overtook him….
He didn’t remember how he got from Baltimore over to Washington Street or descending into the depths of the old parking garage to the lowest level. His mind had become as gray and gloomy as the overcast sky outside, and as dank and miserable as the abandoned place in which he sat with his back against a cold cement wall.
He remembered the lock-down unit of the mental hospital where he was taken after the emergency treatment of his hand. It was a month that seemed like a year and the reason that he left Florida. He never wanted to be “Baker-Acted” again.
He had intended to end it all, then. He was going to jump. He remembered thinking that “she” would be sorry when they took his broken body to the morgue. His unfaithful wife would know it was all her fault and be filled with remorse. He had climbed the towering structure one terrifying inch at a time--hand over hand, not looking down.
He shivered with the memory of what it was like clinging to the top, looking down at the flashing lights, hearing the sirens, the voice over the loudspeaker, “Come down! You have no where to go!”
But, he could not do it. He could not jump. He was terrified of heights, paralyzed with fear. How many hours did he cling, despising himself every moment of the time for his inability to act. He didn’t even feel the pain when he took out his pocket knife, cut off his pinky finger and threw it down at the upturned faces. He felt the warmth of the blood running down his arm and he knew that he would forever remember red and what a coward he had been.
She didn’t even care! She hadn’t even visited him in the hospital. He couldn’t remember what she looked like, her face had morphed into that of his beautiful angel bitch.
(To be continued.)
© Broses. All rights reserved by the author.
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