Rigid. Stone Cold. Expressionless. Just a few adjectives people have used to describe that robust specimen of a man. He had lost all forms of emotions. His failed marriage took his wife, his children and his heart away. He was numb. Nullified. He could barely feel anything anymore of that horrible ordeal where his family was torn apart and ripped out of his life. He had lost everything that mattered to him. Greed? Lust? Alcoholism? Drugs? No. It was simply his recklessness and foolishness. He shot his mouth like a cock-eyed hunter with his pistol. His lips had no restraints, his words carried a thousand knives, piercing through the hearts of anyone who were unfortunate enough to hear them. Language was his flair, yet he used it as a weapon. Every argument he had turned into warfare, with his words fully loaded and ready to hurt. Little did he know, those words would come back to bite him. His actions left his wife with no choice, but to leave. His children are simply too young to have to go through his verbal torment, and left with the better parent. All he had remaining was a calendar with a huge X marked on 23rd April, his foul tongue and horrendous temper.At least there was something to keep him warm during the winter. Days and nights gone by, his words became lesser, conversations shorter and humanly interactions lesser. Under the facade of his sturdy physique, lies a man with a broken heart, a man with saddened emotions, a man who lost everything. His muscles couldn’t hide his immense sorrow, misery and regret. Had he not jumped the gun and let his words flow before they passed his mind, he would have a wife in his arms, children in his life.
His mind was set. If he were to lose everything, it’s only right the world would lose him. Conflicted, yet heart-broken, he brought the knife upon his broad chest. In one swift motion, the sharp object pierced through his skin, penetrated his muscles to arrive at his most precious organ, one that many believed to be missing; his heart. Blood trickled down his chest as quickly as his tears. Occasional grunts filled the air, as the pain coursed through his veins. Like a fallen angel, his once stiff body stiffened further and fell lifeless onto his apartment floor. His hand clenched into a fist, crumpling the photo that was enveloped within his thick fingers. Not once throughout this ordeal did he utter a word. Regret and guilt consumed him, forcing him into the afterlife. His eyelids fluttered as he breathed his last. Darkness gradually filled his sight as air escaped his lungs. ‘Bye’ he mouthed.
‘Thud! Thud! Thud!’
He felt his chest hurt as though a knife had cut it open. His eyes gradually opened, to a sight he had fondly remembered. ‘Dad wake up! It’s Sunday!’ his son exclaimed. He sat up, with his hand grasping his chest, where he vividly recalled the knife being. ‘Honey, were you having nightmares?’ his wife questioned. Confused, he stole a quick glance at his phone and he couldn’t believe his eyes, much less his luck, as the date flashed: 23rd April.
