Heavenly: Heavenly Trilogy

Chapter 1

The sun was just peeking over the horizon, birds were starting to sing, and a sweet breeze carrying the smell of Ms. Oakland's freshly baking pastries wafted past my open window and over the town I'd come to know as intimately as any other student there.  For those of us who bothered to look up every now and again, the signs of autumn were as plain to see as the leaves on the trees.  Cooler weather was upon us and the town of Marabaugh settled into the calm before the storm of new arrivals coming to the prestigious small town college.  Even when I'd applied here two years ago I had no idea that these types of towns still existed in the world.  Yes, the world was right, the morning was calm, and my only regret was knowing I would miss the matching sunset to such a lovely sunrise.  I rattled the pills in my pocket.  It was time to find a place to die.

Funny thoughts ran through my head as I headed out of my dorm room.  I wondered if I should go back and change my shirt from blue to green because blue wasn't really my color and I'd hate to be caught dead in it.  A little chuckle escaped me at the pun but I moved on.  It was the first time I'd laughed in a while and actually meant it, but my own musings were not going to stop me from finally moving past all the misery that stirred within me.  I could still feel the pain from the stomach aches that come with crying so hard that you vomit.  My shoulders were stiff and I desperately wanted to reach inside my ears and rip my skull in two.  That little chuckle relieved just a tiny bit, but most of my calm came from knowing that soon it woud be over.

Daniel! I heard a familiar voice yell over in my direction so I turned to wave politely.  A classmate smiled at me, waved, and kept heading towards the school.  Students shuffled past me at speeds between panicked tardiness and apathetic day-dreaming.  The start of the new academic year was upon us and it was time to finish the summer studies.  Only a few more days until fresh minds stumbled into our town's streets just to stumble out again four to six years later.  I was able to enjoy my last day without having to rush to the last few days of summer classes.  I was well ahead of schedule, a talented prodigy of the language arts.

What will be the last thing I taste, I thought to myself.  What about the last thing I smell?  Are these normal things for someone to think about when they want to die?  Why can't I think about going to Hell for what I'm about to do?  Why isn't that important anymore?  I was interrupted by the familiar smell of a hot coffee and a croissant coming within range.  I'd walked my way over to Ms. Oakland's bakery, sure enough.  Some things never change.

Good morning, Daniel!  It's almost time for the new year.  Are you ready for that?  I smiled at the sweet round face of Ms. Oakland and took the coffee from her.  She was a rotund woman, and she always kept her dark hair tied up in a loose bun.  The lines of hard work and ever-lasting optimism danced over her face when she laughed.

Well, I suppose we'll see, won't we? I laughed and sat down at my usual table.  Are you this in tune with all of the students or is it just me?

She waved a finger at me jokingly and lowered her brow.  Now now, don't we both know that great service comes from knowing your customers?  She turned the news channel on the television to the local morning show.  I couldn't stand listening to politicians spew drivel and inane arguments at one another, but knowing which kittens were up for adoption and who would be on the main float during the autumn parade was more up my alley.  My stomach churned with the nausea of the previous night, but I wanted that coffee and croissant to be a sign to Ms. Oakland that nothing was out of the ordinary.  My anxiety left me in a panic about it, but I took deep breaths and tried to keep my routine as normal as possible.  It wasn't the big worries that were holding me back, like what my classmates would think when they learned I had killed myself or what would happen to me after death.  Smelling that coffee and tasting that croissant pulled at my heart strings because I knew that these small things would be my last.

For all the hate that I'd felt inside for the last several months, I finally felt at peace on that day.  The screaming in my head was finally silent, and my rocky seas were finally still.  If I could have held onto that feeling, I wouldn't have wanted to kill myself but I knew it wouldn't last.  I walked the narrow alleyway between the bakery and the gift shop into the grassy drainage area.  If one followed it long enough and pushed aside the brush at the end of the drainage way they would be met with a series of large rocks that, once climbed, led into a clearing of the park not reachable by any of the trails.  I'd spent many of my years as a boy trying to find unique and interesting places, and it served me well in college when I needed an escape. 

I laid down amongst the nutsedge and crabgrass that had overtaken much of the grass that was there.  Only the sounds of the small town and the tolling of the clock tower could be heard through the trees.  I was tired.  Depression pulls the energy out of you and drains your body of enthusiasm and hope.  You force yourself to continue with routine in the hopes that it will have meaning again, but it doesn't.  This had become my life.  I was so glad that I was able to end the misery, but sad that I had to remove the good as well.

I fought again with the decision.  Wasn't Ms. Oakland's courtesy enough to keep me alive?  What?  A cup of coffee and a pastry versus a lifetime of self-hate and sobbing?  Wasn't there still good in the world that was worth fighting my inner demons?  Of course not.  It wasn’t my good, after all.  It never involved me enough to warrant my miserable life.  Two beings inside me bickering and arguing like a political news show nearly drove me mad.  I yanked the pill bottle from my pocket and struggled to open it with my hands shaking from anger and misery.  Just a few minutes prior, I had been calm and serene but it flitted away again.  I couldn't wait to get away from it.

Do you think, chimed a man's voice with a slightly British accent, that you aren't just having trouble opening the bottle because you have weak hands, but because you might also have a weak will?  I was so startled by the voice that I threw the bottle into the air and it landed, still sealed, several feet from me.  I'd never seen anyone else in my clearing before.  He was about 4 inches taller than me, his skin was lightly tanned, his hair was glossy and black and, while he seemed familiar, I'd never seen him around town.  A black, faux-leather jacket did a poor job of hiding his lean and muscular chest.  He was handsome to look at, and it took me by surprise for a moment before I finally regained my senses.

Wh-What...Who?  He walked past a tree and picked up the bottle.

You don't want to do it.  You just want the pain to stop.  Not that weak will is a bad thing in your case, just the opposite.  You aren't selfish enough to do this.  You don't rightly care so much about what your classmates will think; they'll move on, won't they?  You care more about what Ms. Oakland will do.  You care about what will happen when your teachers ask you to help grade freshman papers and, when they go to find you, that you won't be there.  That is a noble thought.  You poor man.  He put my bottle in his jacket pocket and started to walk away.  I lunged to grab him and forced my feet to find traction beneath me.  I grabbed his arm tightly and turned him around.

Hey! was all I could think to say.

No, no, he lilted back at me smiling.  I don't know why I stopped you.  It's your life.  It's your death.  I guess for a moment I started caring again, myself.  I'm sorry.  He pushed the bottle back into my free hand and then slid his arm out of my grip so we were shaking hands.  You take care of yourself no matter what you do.  It's not my place to stop you.  He patted me on the head condescendingly and walked back through the brush, shoving aside the thorny bushes and thick shrubs.  I stood in shock and watched him walk away. 

It...has been a weird morning, was all I could think before putting the pills in my pocket and going back to Ms. Oakland's bakery to watch the rest of the morning show.  I was far too unnerved to go through with any big decision at that point, so kittens and parades would have to fill my time.

Chapter 2

My eyes burned like the cinders of a bonfire and my stomach tossed and turned like a tempestuous sea.  I woke when the sun was still hiding from the day, but I also felt it hiding from me.  I went to sleep a failure.  Two generals of dead armies battled in my head; one would say that I can go on to achieve greatness and that the stranger who stopped me did me a great favor, and the other would scream obscenities and berate me with his dagger-like words.  The only thing I was glad for at this moment was that I could sit up and wash the burn from my crying eyes.  I wobbled out of bed and to a tiny vanity near my door so I could look at just how bad it was that day.  The ever optimistic general smiled at me in my head.

See? it said.  Your constant fear of being judged has kept your body damned near pristine.  That's something that tells me you want to keep fighting.  You deserve to live.  It was right.  I had never physically harmed myself.  What if I went to a pool party or out to the river and someone saw it?  I couldn't live with being judged so harshly by others.  I wiped the dried and crusted tears from my eyes and leaned over the sink to listen to the other general force his point.

You know you should, though.  Look at you.  A linguist?  You're pathetic.  The internet can do your job for you.  You'll never achieve anything.  This is the highlight of your life and you still hate it.  You may as well give up now, because it only gets worse from here.  Your free ride is almost over and your talents will take you nowhere.  I started crying again.  I'd become so emotionally fragile that even my own thoughts could break me. 

I gagged and spit into the sink, holding back vomiting the nothing I'd had for dinner.  I reached for my bottle of pain-killers but stopped when I touched the lid.  It was ridiculously easy to get a hold of prescription strength pain-killers on a college campus.  No matter how small the town is, someone still has it bad enough to have a drug problem.  No matter how small the town is, someone still wants to kill themselves when they've had enough. 

A sigh ran out of me and I silently wished I was an angrier person who could start throwing things and punching holes in the walls.  Nothing seemed worth the time, and particularly not from me.  This was depression.  I was unworthy to have such a violent reaction.  Who was I to be so miserable?  All of the good and blessed things in my life convinced me that I was not allowed to be human.  Depression is when all you want to do is react but you are unworthy of even the tiniest reprieve.  I saw a sunbeam peer its way into my window and I knew it was time to follow my normal schedule.

I got dressed in my usual attire and headed out of my room to the streets below.  The dorms were delightfully quiet the few days before enrollment.  I'd not made friends here so much as I'd made the typical neighborly acquaintance of classmates and shop-keepers.  I felt that, in a way, this was an even closer connection than friendship.  In the masquerade of politeness we never truly understood each other's flaws.  After all, we'd only be here for a limited time and it seemed silly to go rooting around for another person's issues when I had quite enough of my own.  A new smell permeated the chilly air around the bakery.  The coffee was fresh, the croissants were baking, but this was something sweeter.  I drifted within range and Ms. Oakland opened her door to welcome me.

Good morning, Daniel! she cried out to me with her typical level of joy.  I reached out for my coffee and croissant per usual.  Would you like to try a new muffin?  It's chocolate chip and cinnamon!  I just love the smell of cinnamon, it feels like colder weather, you know?  I looked down at my croissant and smiled.

Sure.  Sounds good.  She assured me it would only be a few more minutes while they cooled a bit and then she'd bring one right out.  She already had the morning news playing.  That morning, it was puppies.  The newscasters cooed over the fluffy bundles and I started my day in the usual way.  As the morning crept up on me I thought of the stranger again.  I ran his words over and over in my mind.  Did he know me?  Was he a classmate I hadn't thought to meet?  He seemed to know me well enough to know my relationship with the teachers.  I tried