...He was standing on the edge of the roof. Below him the cars roared past and the people were heading to wherever they had to go. He shivered. It was a cold, rainy day and on the roof was no protection from the wind. “A perfect day to die” he mumbled.
He didn’t know why he wanted to die, or when he came up with the idea. The feeling was just all of the sudden there, one day, and since that day he had been preparing for this moment. It was like a voice in his head was telling him what to do. He thought about the way it should happen, where, and when and now he was standing here, on a forty storeys high building.
Death had always had a certain attraction on him. “We live to die” a famous man once said. He gave this quote his own interpretation, because if we live to die, then what sense had live? He had come to the conclusion that death would be the most beautiful thing in his life.
Not that he had a bad life, not at all. He just felt like he needed something more dramatic. He didn’t want to wait until he passed away in silence, without knowing when that would happen. “No!” he shrieked, and he almost fell of the roof, startled from his thoughts by his own voice. “It’s time to take control of my own life” he thought. And the best way to do that of course, was by taking control over the ending of it.
He had been standing on the roof for fifteen minutes now, and he felt he had to hurry up, because otherwise someone might discover him. He shambled even closer to the edge, slowly, like a cat approaching his prey. Nobody on the streets seemed to pay attention to him. He rehearsed the last things in his head. From the day that he was born, he had lived to this moment and he didn’t want it to go wrong.
“Shall I scream?” he thought. “I can scream ‘Geronimo’ like people in movies. Or I can just jump in silence, and completely surprise everyone”. He giggled, yes, that would be funny. He would jump in silence, so no one would hear him coming and then, in the blink of an eye, he would be there, and shock everyone. Ambulances would come and try to do CPR on him, but it would be too late. Everyone would talk about it and his story would be in all newspapers, only he wouldn’t know, because he was dead. No one would miss him, but that wouldn’t matter, because people would always remember him and that would be enough.
“But now I’m waiting too long. I can’t procrastinate this glorious moment any longer”. But as he wanted to jump he noticed commotion down on the street. People were looking up and pointing at him. He began to panic a bit. “No, no, no!” he shrieked. “I want to surprise people, they can’t notice me or my plan will fail!”. Suddenly he felt two strong arms around his body. The arms lifted him up and pulled him away from the edge. “No! No! No!” he was screaming out loud now and tried to escape but the arms were too strong. “Calm down” said a deep voice. He felt a prod in his neck and then everything went black…
As he woke up he was sitting in a bare room, with only a matress on the ground and a small window above his head. He recognized this place, he had been here more often. It was the room he had escaped from earlier in the morning. He felt dizzy and was not sure what had happened. Someone knocked on the door and a doctor came in. “You tried to commit suicide again, Edward” the doctor said. He studied the doctor with a confused look on his face. Again? He was pretty sure this was the first moment he tried to commit “suicide”. And it was not even real suicide. Suicide was for mad and desperate people. He was not mad, he just wanted to end his life in a special way, that was all. He told this to the doctor, but the man just smiled and left the room.
He felt angry, that doctor did not even want to listen to him. All the hard work had led to nothing, and he felt like crying. “But it’s not over” he mumbled. “It’s not over. It’s still a perfect day to die…”