The Terror of my Life

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The terror of my life

With bated breath, I ran; trying to break away from its clutches. The uncharacteristic gloominess it casted on my brittle life, was the anguish of my body and mind for weeks. In search of comfort, and serenity, I continued along, only to realize that my desire was self-possessed. I indulged myself immoderately in self pity and shame, lonesomeness and frustration….. Propelled to take my life and end the agony, I pressed a handgun against my head; a semi-automatic revolver. It was my husband’s gun, taken from his Chester draw in his unsuspecting state; this was an act I had planned before hand.

With beads of sweat running down my face, cringing helplessly in the dark alley, and the contractions of my heart set at race, a shot was heard.

I laid there in a crouching position, completely subdued, motionless and silent; I just laid there, with the revolver beside me.

A sudden light beamed down the alley, shining eminently upon me in my non- responsive state. Closing in, the light got brighter. It was my husband David, having realized that I was not at home, past the midnight hour and that his hand gun had been missing, he came in search of me. Driven by an inherent aptitude, he parked his car at the head of the alley and opted to check down its lane. Stumbling upon me the way he did, was far from his expectation, bewildered and terrified, with his body covering mine, he checked for a pulse, a single movement, anything that assured him that I was alive. As he reached out to lift me, I slightly opened my eyes. I had fainted as a result of shock; built up during the heightening of my anguish, triggering the firearm in the process. Jubilant to see me alive, my husband carried me home, where he laid me to rest.

The very next day, having been allowed to rest through the evening, I awoke, trying to forget all that had happened, I was shedding silent tears, however, I was soon interrupted by my husband who entered the bedroom with a fresh cup of coffee a series of questions for me, I was hesitant to accept his kind gesture as I deeply sensed trouble coming my way. With my mind in a flustered state, reaching the point of bursting out, I said to my husband, ‘I need to tell you something David” the perceptibility of my fearfulness moved him to compassion and in the effort of facilitating my self inflicted struggle, he embraced me and whispered, ‘it’s going to be all right’. With the passing of a brief moment, I began to recall the events leading up to my near destruction.

It all started two months ago, when my David went away on a business trip, leaving me and our three year old son,Josiah, to take care of ourselves until he had returned. I was able to spend quality time with Josiah, as was my intent, especially since I had afforded him very little time during the year’s course. One Friday afternoon I took Josiah to the children’s park for a walk where I indulged him in a game of cricket. On our return home, I instructed Josiah to prepare himself for a long bath; excitedly he rushed to his room to get undressed as he relished the thought of playing in the water. Just as I was about to attend to my son, the telephone rang, it was a very good friend whom I had lost contact with for quite sometime. I was so much engulfed in my conversation that I had completely forgotten about Josiah, who by this time had managed to climb into the bathtub; Josiah’s insatiable curiosity led him to the water’s tap, having figured out how to send the water running, Josiah decided that he would fill the tub on his own. I was now sitting in the comfort of my living room, enjoying my friendly chat, completely oblivious of Josiah’s activities. As the water began to flow, Josiah’s feet slid, causing him to fall back, hitting his head against the glass tub, as he lay there unconscious, the water level kept increasing. Biding my friend goodbye, I called out for Josiah, with no response; I rushed towards the bathroom; following the streams of water I had seen on the floor. I could not believe my eyes, screaming at the top of my voice I held my son’s lifeless body in my arms. This was the terror that trailed me; the haunted memory of my son’s death, my mind was subject to the torture that laid claims on my life, causing me to run continuously, I was finally prepared to confront my fears.

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