fairy tale endings ·
18 July 04

Aaron could feel the marshes of strands in on his head waving frantically against the air, he enjoyed the feeling of gusts blowing his hair as if they had a life of their own.

It sometimes reminded him of the times she would run her fingers through it, as a sign of affection, a sign of warmth and commitment. He closes his eyes and remembers what she looked like. He didn’t think he would at a time like this, but he remembers everything about the way she looked: her hair; her eyes; her lips; her face; the way she breathed; the way she’d jump up and down when she ate hot chillies, gasping for air, and wafting her hand in front of her mouth to fan the flames. And then the way she betrayed him. Aaron smiles, and opens his eyes.

The fields ahead of him were fast and beautiful. Depths and shades of greens appeared which he hadn’t noticed before, inspiring his thoughts and sparking his imagination. “Why couldn’t I appreciate this before? Why did I wait until now to realise the beauty of it all?” he questioned himself. There were only questions, but no answers. It didn’t matter there weren’t any answers this time.

Aaron had searched his entire life for answers, and all it did was depress him. The more answers he found, the more questions it brought up, the greater his depression and frustration became. He often wondered whether it was easier being born with a disability of the mind, the inability to understand the complex and malicious reality of the world and all it beholds. “If I didn’t understand would I be happier? Would I be here now?” he wondered.

The wind gushed into his face, suffocating him like that day his mother held him.

Looking up, the flare of the sun hurt his eyes, he saw the twinkling of the rays against the beautiful blue sky, as clear as the ocean, with not a cloud in sight. He saw birds flocking one way and the next, not going in any particular direction, wondering if it was normal. Of course, where he was couldn’t exactly be called normal, but then what was normal anymore? Normality didn’t matter at a time like this, he wasn’t sure if any sense of reality existed in his life up until now.

The guilt he felt for years. He was only seven years old, he didn’t understand why, but he watched the toy roll across the street road. Of that day, of the events of that morning, he remembers the toy distinctly. It was a toy car, with thick black racing stripes, which were broken up by yellow stripes, much thinner in size.

The hubcaps on the wheels were flashy, and fun in design, looking like those weird three pronged boomerangs that are meant to spin and work better than the Australian adopted original. The car had a two cylinder exhaust at the rear, with the plate at the back saying “Wheels” and the front saying “Hot”. There was a big star on the bonnet of the car, it had the number 6. On both sides of the car where the doors resided (of which there were two) were the numbers 6.
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He wonders if it was an omen for a semi-Christian family that went to Church, but barely practiced their religion. His mother described their family as, “A fairytale where we all live happily ever after”. This provided solace for Aaron as a child. The fairytale dream, with a happy ending that was real.

The windscreen was transparent, and the driver was completely silver, with the decor inside not matching the fun of the outer shell, instead being a cream colour; the sort of colour you get plastic in before it’s painted. He remembers how it spun across, going round in circles, as if it was on an ice rink. It reminded him of those performances on ice in the Olympics, he couldn’t ever remember the name of the event, but right now it reminded him of that event. As it hit a stone, the car spun on to its roof, crashing and tumbling, almost as if it was in slow motion, or being restricted by water. It was beautiful to behold, and he wanted to cry, but couldn’t bring himself to. It broke in two as it hit the curb, splitting and shattering, and a tear rolled down his cheek.

Aaron’s mother was in the corridor, and he heard her footsteps, heaving, giant in strength running towards him. She held him tight, and turned him around. As he looked up, he saw her bra strap falling on one side, as he looked at her face, she had a bucket full of cream on. She always wore that before his dad came home, she wanted to look good for him before they went out. The hair curlers were still in her hair, and then he noticed the tear rolling down her face. The tears collected the cream and landed on his face, like bird droppings. Splashes of tears mixed with a cream bombing his face, just as the Germans bombed London during a blitz: without question, without remorse, without concern.

Of course, where he was couldn’t exactly be called normal, but then what was normal anymore?

He noticed her eyes bulge for a few moments, and then close, as showers of tears fell upon him. There was a thin, gooey string of spit which connect from the top of her front bottom tooth, the to the upper lip. Whenever it happened to him, he would see how far he could stretch that string before it broke. His mother’s mouth was wide open, but he couldn’t hear anything. Wanting to turn around to look at the car, his beautiful toy car, that his father bought for him, he was forced in and held where he was. Breathing was difficult, feeling suffocated, he hit his mother in the stomach repeatedly while shouting, “Mum! I can’t breathe! I CAN’T BREATHE!“.

Then a sudden jolt by his mother, and he was released. She took two steps back, as she wore her dressing gown, one corner of her shoulder showing, where the bra strap had fallen to the side, wearing her green, thick slippers. Then her eyes rolled back, almost as if they were going into her skull, the eyelids shut, and she tumbled to the ground. Aaron just stood there, thinking of the car, while staring at his mother. He couldn’t move, he wanted to, but this time, he couldn’t move himself. Tears rolled down his face uncontrollably, and he didn’t know why. Liquid was dripping out of his nose, and his tears were now followed with a wailing cry.

The lady from next door kept asking if he was all right, and held him with comfort. The husband of the lady checked on his mother, and then ran to the phone to call for an ambulance. Aaron had no understanding of why this was happening.
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“I don’t want the stupid car,” he cried, “I want my daddy back! Please fix him, please make it not happen, why won’t he get up? Why is he on the road sleeping? I don’t want the car.”

He continued to cry, as the lady showed sympathy and compassion in her face and in her embrace. “Hush baby, it’s ok, everything’s going to be ok.” and with those words, Aaron went to sleep.

Aaron’s mother sat beside him, looking as though she had gained 40 years, slightly purple and red in skin tone over her face. He looked at his hands, and his body, but he was still the same, so he couldn’t understand why she suddenly looked so old. As he looked around, he realised he wasn’t in his house, and he wasn’t in any one else’s house. Aaron hated hospitals, the smell of death and disease wreaked everywhere, the old, the young, the dying the, just barely living, the stench of urine and of people shitting on the floor out of insanity would freak him out.

There was a thin, gooey string of spit which connect from the top of her front bottom tooth, the to the upper lip.

He would often have nightmares of the dead coming to get him. They would chase him in to a corridor, where a door existed which he tried to open, but it wouldn’t budge. Looking back, he could see them heading towards him, the young and the old, but all normal looking, they didn’t look like the dead. As he tried for the door again, it would disappear replaced by a wall. The people were closer, and they hadn’t turned into zombies, but they were practically towering over him.

They took his arm, and started biting in to his arm, ripping off a chunk of flesh. The strings of arteries and veins stretching in the bite, snapping at the pinnacle of the pull, spraying blood everywhere like an uncontrollable water hose. He screamed his agony, and saw his mother and father far in to the distance, but they couldn’t hear him, or yet, he could scream but no sound came from his voice. That was the most disturbing, recurring nightmare he had. The intensity and fear it induced would often make him wet his bed at night.

But this time, it was different. He woke up, refreshed, feeling fine. There was no nightmare, there was no flesh eating. There was his mother, looking 40 years older than she was, dressed negatively in a huge coat, with no make up and her hair bunched up as best it could be in an apparent rush. “Is that really my mum?” he pondered, as he looked at the dejected shipwreck sitting in the chair. He always saw his mother happy, smiling, beautiful and radiant and his father was a handsome guy, looking like the perfect husband and wife.
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He wonders if he felt guilt thinking about the car instead of his father. His therapist told him the car was a distraction, induced by him. It represented all that he admired about his father: smartness, style, class, pride and love. The therapist continued with a theory about how Aaron had witnessed his father being hit by the on coming vehicle, and as the impact throw his father in the air, the toy his father had bought him more than likely feel out of the bag.

“While witnessing the destruction of the car, you were was also witnessing the death of your father. The beauty you felt in the cars movement, the slow motion, the tumbling, was synchronized with the fatal accident of the father you loved, but who you couldn’t accept having an accident, as he was only a few feet away from reaching home.

It was never the car you wanted, it was the absence of your father you attempted to fill with toys he bought you, which was telling when he exclaimed you wanted your father over the car, to make a point, to ask for something you knew you couldn’t have.”

He screamed his agony, and saw his mother and father far in to the distance, but they couldn’t hear him, or yet, he could scream but no sound came from his voice.

Aaron remembers how his father told him he couldn’t have the car, because times were hard, money was tight. But his father was like that, and his mother often said he spoilt him. He loved waiting for him to come back from work, with something new, because Aaron asked for it the week before, and even though his father said no, he would still buy it for him.

“The reality is, your father, as much as you loved him was never there. It’s likely your father bought the toys out of guilt, and just as you felt you couldn’t ask for his love, equally, he was unable to tell you as much.”

Clenching his fist tight, Aaron looked out of the window, watching children play in the puddles of water. It had rained that night before, and the morning was cold and dull. Looking through the window, the world was still dull, but the children were smiling as they played. He unclenched his fist, and gripped the chair’s side handle tightly, wrapping his hand around like a snake coiling around it’s prey.

”....and that was the first time you saw your mother like that. Aaron, your mother was beaten by your father. The happy, beautiful family that you thought you had was self destructing. The first time you saw your mother like you did in the hospital was perhaps the first time you had seen the truth about the father you so admired.” ended the therapist, as Aaron caught the end of what Dr. Stephen Walden was saying.
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“He was a great man. You don’t know who he was or what he was like. You’re just paid to help ‘cure’ people like me, based on your bullshit theories. They’re all fucking theories, you see. I LIVED that life, I KNOW my mother and father. Yeah, they may not have been the perfect couple I thought they were, but I KNOW that my mother and father love each other, and they loved me as well.” Aaron retorted.

“Look, I’m here to help, I understand how you fe-” said Walden, before being broken off.

“Feel? FEEL? What in the name of God do you know about feeling? You’re a therapist, you don’t give a shit about what people feel. You empty their souls, this country’s wallet, you empty humanity of emotion like….like….like some fucking vampire. A motherfucking vampire is what you are! Instead of blood, you suck emotions, you drain people of all they are, their humanity. You prescribe drugs while you sit in the chair and prescribe yourself some of the same crap so you don’t have to DEAL with emotion.

You’re probably high as fucking kite on coke right now, you self-righteous motherfucker. You probably see a therapist yourself because you can’t handle the fucking emotion you see everyday. And your solution for those that see you? Any damned drug that ends in the user turning into a fucking tree, only good for being pissed on by dogs. You create monsters here, you create zombies, the undead. You’re the fucking grim reaper, and your scythe is replaced with a prescription book. When the rapture arrives, you’ll be prescribing drugs to everyone that didn’t make it, so they can’t feel the pain of the punishment they receive for their sins. YOU are a fucking monster.” and with that Aaron left the room.

He unclenched his fist, and gripped the chair’s side handle tightly, wrapping his hand around like a snake coiling around it’s prey.

Walden stared at the chair, there was still two minutes left on the clock before the next appointment, and then the bell rang. The last patient was shown in, and left the session with a prescription for paroxetine. The doctor contemplated the days events, and stared at the telephone. He made a call to his dealer for a score.

Life was never the same after his father died. His mother became an alcoholic wreck, unable to cope with the reality. She would sometimes dress up, waiting for Aaron’s father to walk through the door, ready to go out. He never came. Things got worse as his mother started bringing home strangers. They treated her like shit, and he even wondered if she was whoring herself for the next bottle of liquor. It wouldn’t surprise him. The day after his father’s death, he woke up and saw his mother; she said everything would be fine, but as time got on, he realised that the day his father died, he was orphaned, as his mother’s soul had died too.

He decided to join the army, leaving behind his past, leaving behind the alcoholic wretch that lived in that house. The memories and pain of his life was to be distant thought, never to be remembered again. He learnt self reliance, he learnt discipline, he learnt how to emotionally detach yourself from killing another human being. To be a soldier, a killer, without remorse, without concern, and without guilt. Aaron felt he had already killed someone: his mother, leaving her without concern, guilt, or remorse. The day he enrolled, a series of questions were asked, it was at one question that he hesitated,
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”...and the status of your parents?” the major asked, taking a particular interest in molding the younger men himself. “I asked about your parents lad, I expect an answer. You do have parents don’t you?”

“Sorry, Sir. I….” Aaron thought for a moment, “Dead, Sir. They both died when I was 7. Car accident, Sir.”

“I’m sorry to hear that son. Well, we’re your new family now. Welcome to the army.” replied the Major, shaking Aaron’s hand in sympathy. As he looked in to Aaron’s eyes, he saw no sign of life, no sign of hope, only tragedy. The Major froze, just for a moment, as if in a trance. He snapped out of it when Aaron had closed the door on leaving.

It was only 7 months before Aaron walked through that door again, but this time he left through the front without returning to his bunkers. He had been discharged for repeated and aggressive insubordination. It wasn’t heroic, it wasn’t confidence building, it was dull. The same mundane exercise, the same bullshit being screamed at him day in and day out. It was more Full Metal Jacket than Saving Private Ryan. Most of the kids that enrolled were from stable enough families, though if they only knew the truth. He suspected some had mother’s or father’s fucking around with other people, while keeping it sweet for the sake of the kid. He laughed to himself, and when asked what he was laughing about, he would respond with,

The doctor contemplated the days events, and stared at the telephone. He made a call to his dealer for a score.

“Just remembering my loving parents.”

Of course it was just a comment. He never remembered, or thought about them. Some of the other guys would show pictures of their families, or their girlfriends. Aaron hadn’t gone with a girl for a long, long time. At night time he would sneak around the bunks, grab a wallet with a half decent looking girl and head to the toilets. He would imagined himself fucking the girls brains out, recalling back to his own sexual experiences and picturing the girl’s face during the sex he had. His climax was short and quick, sometimes staining the photograph in the process, cleaning it as quickly as he could. It sometimes smelt of his semen, but the poor bastard who’s picture it was didn’t realise, nor did he know that he was touching another guy’s semen on his photograph. Aaron had to turn around in disgust as the owner of the photo would kiss it. He almost puked once at the sight, and it creeped him out to the point where he stopped stealing pictures and just stuck with his imagination in the toilets.

Life was grim, the tasks, the work, the people he was with were happy, but the reality of it all was just grim as hell. Everyone he spoke to said they were doing it out of patriotism, because it’s what their parents wanted them to do. Like sheep, like lambs to the slaughter, they were happy to become killing machines facing other killing machines. They were human Terminators, without Arnie’s leather gear and exo-skeleton interior. “So why the fuck am I here? I don’t even believe in this shit.”, he asked himself. The only answer he could come up with was, “Boredom.” He needed to get out.

“Sir, I would like to leave.” directing his request to the Major.
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“Leave? Now, now, you can’t leave. You’re family. We’re what you might like to call, a unit. A unit it is one body, where each person is a part of that body. If one person leaves, the body is damaged and we become weaker. Son, when I first joined, I was nervous too. I didn’t know what to expect, I was not much younger than you at the time.

But I am so proud to have served my country. To have looked the enemy in their eye; face to face, while I stab my knife in to their rib cage, ripping it apart. The fear….it’s the fear, son. The fear in their eyes as you take away their life, knowing that they couldn’t take away yours. They weren’t good enough to kill you, but you had the power to crush those bastards with one thrust of the knife. There’s nothing better than the sound of the enemy dying; wanting to scream, but unable to.

You can almost taste the cracking of the ribs as the knife is twisted. Son, we can give you this power. This taste for blood lust. You can’t leave, we’re family, do you understand?” ending his speech with his hands clasped, leaning forward in his chair, Aaron had seen the insanity in the Major’s eyes, the beads of perspiration on his brow.

His climax was short and quick, sometimes staining the photograph in the process, cleaning it as quickly as he could.

If he stayed, he would become one of them. Of all the shit luck, he had left one form of madness and insanity in therapy and gone into the extreme of becoming a killer for maniacs. Replacing drugs with dead people, and a therapist with power, with a soldier of power. Nothing had changed. He was still in that same shit hole.

“With respect, Sir,” Aaron began, “I need to leave, because I have no intention of killing another person. Certainly, I do not wish to end up as a depraved, sick, motherfucker like yourself, nor do I wish to replace medication with a gun and a corpse.

You’re a lunatic in charge of training innocent kids into becoming lunatics. The army is a world of mad bastards ruled by mad bastards. With respect, it’s bad enough living with morons in the form of politicians, we don’t’ need crazed gun toting fuckheads like you in it as well.

I would also like to add that putting me in the hole will make no difference, Sir. My continued rebellious nature has not been due to not being able to adjust, but because I choose not to. If you don’t let me leave, I will disrupt and ruin your course. I will continue to be a thorn in your side, and you can be as malicious as you want, but while I exist, your wannabe-nutcases won’t be able to concentrate.
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If you try to make me ‘disappear’ I’m sure the press will want to know what happened to a missing recruit. If you still refuse to let me go, I’ll end my own life, or make attempts to do so until you let me go, and you can be sure this will be leaked. Nothing’s a secret anymore, Sir.”

The Major leaned back in his chair, his complexion had changed, and Aaron felt a nervousness in his legs. He realised he had seen far too many movies, and read far too many newspapers to come up with half the shit that he did come up with. Continued rebellion? The papers? Disappearing? What the hell was he even talking about?

“You will be fined and discharged for insubordination towards a superior officer. You will pack your things immediately and exit promptly. If I ever see you again, you will ‘disappear’ as you so aptly put it. If I ever see you on a war zone, even as an innocent civilian, you will ‘disappear’. If I see you anywhere near these barracks, you will ‘disappear’. I suggest you leave this town, because you don’t want to be around when I’m drunk, walking the streets, remembering the FUCKING DISRESPECT AND ARROGANCE YOU HAVE SHOWN ME TODAY, YOU FUCKING SCUM BAG. GO BACK TO THE STREETS, YOU FUCKING CUNT. Now get out, before I make you DISAPPEAR!” he exclaimed.

Replacing drugs with dead people, and a therapist with power, with a soldier of power. Nothing had changed. He was still in that same shit hole.

Aaron wiped the spittle off his face, holding back from commenting on the fumes of bad breath that drifted from the Major’s mouth over to Aaron’s sense of smell, like a visible toxic fume they show in the movies. Aaron had been sweating profusely, fearing the worst. It was bad enough thinking about having the shit kicked out of you, but it was even worse not knowing what was really on the Major’s mind. What was he thinking of? Would he really let him go? Should he talk to him and ask him if his threat was empty or real? Aaron decided to hang around and left. He was out of the barracks within 10 minutes, pelted with the words, “Loser”, “Traitor” and “Coward” by his colleagues as he left. Aaron ignored the lambs to the slaughter.

Aaron worked different jobs to earn his money. He managed to get a single bedroom to live in on what he could earn, which was barely enough to get him a meal. Some days he would just have to ration one days worth of food over a week. It was tough, and he hated the life of crap, he hated where he was and wondered if leaving the army was such a good idea. Sure it was a mental asylum for people with a right to kill someone in some far off land of which they know nothing about, but at he had some sort of security at least.

To say he considered his accommodation the pits was an understatement. The walls were covered in what used to be white wallpaper, but over time and abuse had been torn or changed colour. The staircase had no carpet, and anywhere there was carpet smelt like age old urine. The landlord never fixed anything, until he felt like. With the little he had, Aaron really wasn’t in a position to argue. The rent money would be taken, but the hot water would not work, the electricity would go off, and the ceiling would leak. This wouldn’t be so bad, if the place he was staying at didn’t house crackheads and whores. He could smell the lust, and the fumes from the plastic drifting down the corridor. Open his stubborn window, would let in the cold drafts of the Winter months, and the sound of whore’s being fucked from other rooms. Either way, it just wasn’t what he planned, or wanted.
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A new store had opened across the street, and Aaron decided to take a look around. It was bright, shiny, and very well built for a local convenience store. He was aware it would probably get robbed and shot up in not time, but it was pleasant to see something this nice for once, in a long time. He picked a few things, and took them over to the checkout, where he was greeted by a red haired beauty. Her eyes were green, a face as delicate as a petal, her lips as succulent as a juicy strawberry and her presence that of an angel.

“Is that everything?” she asked.

“Huh…w…um, yeah, that’s everything.” he managed to reply.

“Ok, that’s 8.75, please.” she requested.

“Um…..sorry, could I put something back, I’ve only got 8.55…” he replied with shame. “What a pitiful fool.” he thought of himself. “I have no shame, and here I am, with this beauty, and I don’t have enough money. Pathetic.”

It was tough, and he hated the life of crap, he hated where he was and wondered if leaving the army was such a good idea.

“Tell you what. I know you just live across the street so, why don’t you just give me the rest tomorrow, and I’ll cover you today. I trust you, don’t know why, but you seem a decent guy.” she said with a smile. A smile that melted the depressed Aaron, and the first sign of something that gave him hope.

“I…am. I am a decent guy, thank you. I will definitely give you the rest tomorrow.” Aaron replied, almost in comfirmation to himself that he was a good person.

Aaron wanted for something to happen between himself and her, Catherine. It did, and Catherine became a rock for Aaron. Finally, he had found happiness, finally he could forget about the unhappiness of his past. Catherine was working part-time at the convenience store while she studied to get a diploma in Business Marketing & Management. While doing all of this she decided to help Aaron make something of himself.

Catherine got Aaron a job as a trainee assistant at a retail store in City. He hated it at first, but he realised that if he wanted to keep Catherine, he would to show his commitment to improving his own life. His negativity had dispersed, replaced with a rejuvenated enthusiasm and a desire for life and success. He realised, however, that this was no different from the therapy and the army. Success was the drug, and Catherine was the person who would change him. The difference this time was that Aaron wanted to change, he wanted to care about this, and he did.

As the months passed, the Winter fell and gave way to Spring, the trees began their plans to blossom, Catherine had already completed and gained her diploma, and Aaron had been saving his hard earned cash for something to do with Catherine. No longer an assistant, and becoming used to earning an ‘average Joe’ wage. It didn’t matter, because he was now out of the hell hole he used to live in and moved into nicer one bedroom apartment, he was with a beautiful young graduate, and his life was going fine.
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Aaron was happy, but Catherine was becoming more depressed. Nothing Aaron did seemed to be helping matters, and this was disturbing him and their relationship.

“Why won’t you talk to me? Let me help you?” he asked.

“Help? Jesus, Aaron, I HELPED YOU, remember? How can you help me? You’re barely able to keep yourself together. Do you know what it’s like to earn a diploma and then have it go to shit because some asshole won’t give you a job because I don’t have enough experience?” she replied in a matter of fact way.

“Well, listen, there’s a position opening at store I’m at, why don’t you consider taking that up?” enquired Aaron.

“Retail store? Ha! Don’t insult me! A retail store like that is for people without hope or an education. I’m a fucking graduate for chrissakes, can’t you understand that? No, of course you can’t. You abandoned your mother, went nuts over your father’s death and then met me, who ended up sorting out your miserable fucked up excuse for a life. Aaron, you’re a moron, I have studied too hard to get some two bit job in a fucking retail store. I have aspirations, I am going to go places, and I can’t do that with you holding me…” Catherine went silent.

“Holding you back? Is that it? I’m holding you back? I only want what’s best for you. Look, honey, do whatever you need to, but I just don’t like to see you this way that’s all. I’m not upset by what you’ve said, it’s fine, you have a right to consider me a burden, I just want to repay the help you’ve given me.” he explained.

His negativity had dispersed, replaced with a rejuvenated enthusiasm and a desire for life and success.

“I’m sorry. You’re right, I’ll just have to work harder to find a job. I didn’t mean what I said, I love you, I just sometimes get tense about these things. You know? Let’s just leave it, ok?” she requested.

That night, after they made love, Aaron lay in the bed, staring at the ceiling. There really was nothing he could do. Who was he, compared to her? It was like lady and the tramp, and he really was the tramp. What a mess; what a fucking mess. Was she going to make him feel guilty everytime she got angry? He looked at her, sleeping soundly, as if nothing had happened. But he was aware she meant everything she said, regardless of her denial after saying it. He was holding her back, perhaps she would be better off with someone else. He decided to stay out of her way, and only be around if she wanted or asked him to be.

Catherine came home late, first a few times during the week, and then almost every evening. By the time Aaron was sleeping, she would be in. Sometimes he would stay awake, but pretend to be asleep. He didn’t know why, maybe in the hope she would try to wake him up? The fast few months, they hardly saw each other. She said she was working on a course that would get her a job, but it meant studying long hours and she would hardly get to see him. Aaron was considerate and accepted this as a reality.

They hadn’t made love in several months, and Aaron became despondent, as Catherine seemed calmer, almost happier. Was he the reason for her unhappiness? Was she screwing someone else? Paranoia had hit him hard, he realised the whole atmosphere had changed and he needed to confront the issue. He asked Catherine to be home for dinner around 7.00PM. She said fine, kissed him goodbye and went out of the door.
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10.30PM and Aaron had finished two bottles of wine, and began on the Vodka. The food was cold, and so he threw it in the trash. 11.00PM and no sign of Catherine, no phonecall, nothing. He had drank half a bottle of vodka, his vision blurring. He had also picked up the habit of smoking. Something Catherine despised, but accepted.

1.40AM and the door of the apartment had opened. Catherine creeped inside, taking off her shoes as she entered. She closed the door, and went towards the kitchen, see bottles of wine, the food in the trash and no sign of Aaron. She assumed he had gone to bed, so she got undressed and showered, as she did every day for months.

She creeped in to the room like a zoo keeper, trying not to awaken the lion. As she got closer to the bed, she realised the bed was empty. She looked around the dark room, but Aaron was no where to be seen, and decided to go to bed. Catherine heard the grinding of a lighter, and choked on the smell of cigarette smoke.

“Helloooooooooooo HONEY“ spoke a figure on the darkest side of the room. Catherine could see the figure on the floor; sitting with a bottle in one hand, and a smoke in the other. The sardonic nature of his tone put her on guard.

He looked at her, sleeping soundly, as if nothing had happened. But he was aware she meant everything she said, regardless of her denial after saying it.

“Aaron? What are you doing? I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t make it. I would have called, but you can understand how busy these courses can get, you just don’t get time, and I decided to do some extra studying.” she replied softly.

“Studying? Is that what they call it these days? So tell me, is he better than me?” he asked, with a scowl.

“Better? What are you talking about? Put out the cigarette and come to bed, honey. It’s been a long day.” she requested waving her hand towards Aaron to come over.

“Oh? So you still want mine too? What, it’s not enough to just have one cock ramming you, you need two a day? Christ, Catherine, I think you’re developing a habit. I think they call it Cockalitis. They say the cure is to be faithful.” replied Aaron, now moving towards Catherine, while blowing smoke in her direction.
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“Fuck you Aaron. If you’re going to behave like a child then FUCK YOU. I don’t need this shit, as well as having to study stupid hours to get a fucking job I want, I have to come home to this bullshit? It’s not my fault if we haven’t had time together, I am managing this the best I can. But if you’re so fucking arrogant to – “ she stops mid sentence.

“Blah blah blah blah. The little princess is innocent of sucking too much cock; the whore of the world sits in my bed and tells ME that I’m ARROGANT? Well, I fucked you honey, and I got what I wanted.” he interrupts.

The phone rings, it’s early morning.

“Where the hell are you Aaron? You know it’s busy today” asks the manager at the store.

“Uh, sorry, I just don’t feel well enough to come to work. I don’t think I can make it in today.” replies Aaron.

He hangs up the phone, attempting to get his bearings. Looking in the mirror, he sees the bruise to his face, and the clock on the floor where he was. Then he remembers the clock coming at him after talking down to Catherine. Her things had gone, and he was now living alone.

He took the bottles of alcohol and poured them down the sink, throwing his cigarettes in the trash and cleaned up the entire apartment. Aaron cleaned himself up, and looked like the Aaron when he was happy with Catherine. “We’ll doing something spontaneous, and I’ll apologise. I’ve been such an asshole.” he told himself.

Late in the afternoon, he saw Catherine walking a guy. Aaron didn’t think anything of it, he would apologise and everything would be fine. He ran over to Catherine, who stopped when she saw him, asking the guy she was with to leave. But he wouldn’t leave, and smiled, waving at Aaron.

Catherine could see the figure on the floor; sitting with a bottle in one hand, and a smoke in the other.

“Hey honey” said Aaron as he leaned over to kiss her.

“Hey…er…Aaron…” replied Catherine, hesitantly as she turned her cheek, avoiding lip to lip contact.

“And this is?” he enquired.

“Um…this is…Karl, Aaron. The guy I’ve been….studying with.” replied Catherine, now looking nervous.

“Pleasure to meet you Aaron, you know, Catherine just never stops talking about you.” said Karl, with a hint of sarcasm.

“Well…er…ok, honey, look I got two tickets to a parachute jump. It’s mad a I know, but I thought we could you know, have some fun together, trying something a little crazy.” he offered to Catherine.

“Parachuting? Are you stupid? You know I have a fear of heights. Look….Aaron, Karl isn’t just a study partner. He and I have been seeing each other.” she admitted.

“That’s fine, honey, you have to have fun I guess. That’s fine, I don’t mind if you guys hang out.” said Aaron, oblivious to the reality.

“No dumbass, what she means to say is, I’ve been sticking my cock in her, and she’s been loving every inch of it.” laughed Karl.

“Sorry Aaron, but you’re just no good for me. You’re going nowhere with your life. You’re a no hoper, I think you need therapy. And a fucking life.” she laughs with Karl.
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Aaron, smiles and walks home. On the way back he stops at a convenience store, and buys several bottles of alcohol. Further down the road, he stops to buy some sleeping pills. He drinks until late in the evening, as the moon shines across the floor like a river of light. It’s pure, clean, and uncaring.

He takes the pills out of their box, and starts to pop them out of their sheets. He looks at them, and then notices the parachute jump tickets. He falls asleep in the chair, the bottle hitting the floor as his head hits the table, the pills scatter across the floor, his left hand landing on the tickets.

The next morning, Aaron calls into work telling them he quits. He doesn’t care about not getting the pay, and he hopes them the best of times. The manager responds with a range of expletives the size of a family shopping list. Aaron doesn’t mind. He calls up the University where Catherine was studying at, and enquires to the room where the course is being taught, and where its located in the building.

Looking in the mirror, he sees the bruise to his face, and the clock on the floor where he was. Then he remembers the clock coming at him after talking down to Catherine.

He then shaves, showers and gets dressed, and cleans the room. He takes a few empty boxes from landlord and packs his things, giving him the rent for next month in advance. He tells the landlord that someone would be around to pick up his things later today. With that done, he takes one last look at another home of memories of pain. He closes the door and leaves.

Rules are shouted, and although he looks like he’s listening, he isn’t. He has a note, it’s in his pocket. He thought about what he would like to write, and the wrote one line, placing it in to his pocket. They’re given their instructions and spend most of the day training. They’re ready to jump, and they all get on board the plane.

“I can’t wait to jump!” exclaims one the jumpers.

“It’s not the falling you have to worry about, it’s the landing.” Aaron replies, seeing the jumper getting nervous at his comment. He just smiles, and looks towards the front of the cockpit, seeing the plane climb higher and higher, in to the air, like a mechanical bird soaring.

The instructor of the group opens the door, and makes sure everyone’s ready. Aaron ensures he’s ahead of everyone and prepares himself. The instructor tells him to wait until he gives the signal, and then he can jump. Aaron smiles, and looks down at the world below. Buildings, followed by lushes of green. He can feel the wind in his face. He’s nervous and excited. The instructor signals, and Aaron jumps.
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As he dives, a sealed note is given to Catherine during class. The note reads,

“Betrayed by you.

Love,

Aaron”

The force of the wind blows in his face, he’s reaching the point where he should pull the ring that would release the parachute. Too soon, and it would send him off course, too late and he would crash and perhaps die. He smiles, and dives further. He wonders if this what they mean by life flashing before your eyes. Relieving everything that has been good or bad in your life, during those few minutes that it takes to dive from a plane to land on the floor, knowing the inevitable. Every moment, relived as if it was yesterday, every second becoming a different year, growing up again.

To the right of him he saw the horizon become lower. To the left he saw the buildings become bigger, although far in to the distance. The wind gushed into his face, suffocating him like that day his mother held him. Everything seemed to flash before him, his parachute gear flapping in the breeze, and the speed seemed to pick up. The lush green getting closer and closer into view.

He falls asleep in the chair, the bottle hitting the floor as his head hits the table, the pills scatter across the floor, his left hand landing on the tickets.

The cops visited his landlord, asking about Aaron. They took his belongings, as Aaron said someone would. The landlord said he didn’t know him well, but he seemed a decent guy, who used to live with his girlfriend, but she left. Perhaps that was what tipped him over the edge.

Aaron’s corpse was difficult to recognise. The impact with which he hit, and in addition to the fact that he missed the field, instead hit the stone path, meant it crushed his body, with only broken limbs remaining. His teeth were the only way they could identify his body. His mother was tracked down, and a quiet funeral was held, attended by her second husband, a dependable and honest man who too pity on her way of life and helped her to restore it. They had spent years trying to track Aaron down, but he moved so often, they were always behind.

A detective gave his sympathies to Aaron’s mother, and handed her the note which they found on his body. His death was announced as a suicide, and hit the news. Aaron’s mother opened the note, it read,

“I stopped believing in fairy tales.”