If only.

If only

There he stood blue lipped and white faced staring down at the sea washing over the black rocks, a good twenty metres high. Paul looked up, watery eyed, across the desert of wavy water and stared into the dark red sun setting in the distance, sinking down just like Paul’s life. As he stared into the red reaches of the sun Paul was contemplating his life and how he felt now he had lost practically everything. “Why me, why, why?” Paul began to sob, again looking down at the thick, cold, black rocks. His bare feet shuffled forward another few inches towards the edge, his hair blew in the wind. To him it felt like the way his dad used to run his fingers through his hair to calm Paul down in his younger years but with a quick snap he realised that his dad can not calm him down now or save him. Paul was at the lowest point in his life three days after his twentieth birthday, he felt that when everybody feasts on life’s fruit and joy he got the indigestion, but there was a more upsetting reason for Paul’s behaviour and this will be revealed with time.

Paul took a big step closer towards the ragged cliff edge. Now the sun had set and darkness was upon Paul. He placed his shivering hand into his right pocket and pulled out his last coin, it was a ten pence piece. With a flick his last coin disappeared into the darkness and onto the rocks below. Paul looked up again at an uninviting sky, his last tear running down his cheek slowly until it reached his jaw line and dripped off, his arms spread like eagle’s wings. With a small bend in the knees he leapt. Paul instinctively began screaming then as his head struck the blackness below silence, dead silence, nothing but the tainted sound of the waves rolling over the bloodied rocks upon which Paul had smashed himself. This is the story of how Paul came to ending his life.

Paul woke up with a major headache from the party he had for his birthday and rolled shyly to his right. There in his bed was his long-term girlfriend, Fiona, asleep but with a smile on her face. He rolled to his left and underneath his wallet laid a number on a torn piece of paper saying “don’t forget to call”. Paul could not recall where this had come from but he thought to himself hardly surprising after the amount he had to drink and snort last night! Paul got changed and with a quick kiss to Fiona’s forehead left his house to go to the phone box on the corner of the road. 0..7..7..8..8..6..5..8..0..7..7, the phone began to ring “Hello who’s calling” a Rastafarian accent was the first thought in Paul’s head, then he tried again to remember where he got the number from “Oh hi, yeah, well my name is Paul and I know it sounds silly but I had this number on a piece of paper and it said…”

“That doesn’t sound silly and don’t worry I know what it said.”

“How did you know that?” said Paul wondering quite what was going on at that moment.

“I remember giving it to you last night at your house”

“Oh, well, I can’t really remember though, look why did you want me to call you then… sorry what’s your name?”

“My name is Dark Angel and the reason I wanted you to call me because you owe my boss four hundred pounds”

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This is a preview of the whole essay

“That doesn’t sound silly and don’t worry I know what it said.”

“How did you know that?” said Paul wondering quite what was going on at that moment.

“I remember giving it to you last night at your house”

“Oh, well, I can’t really remember though, look why did you want me to call you then… sorry what’s your name?”

“My name is Dark Angel and the reason I wanted you to call me because you owe my boss four hundred pounds”

“Four hundred pounds!”

“Yes four hundred pounds my friend, you were like wildfire with that cocaine last night boy, you must have given away half of it to your mates anyway!”

“Oh yes I remember” Paul felt a little ashamed.

“Good, now we’re getting somewhere. What I need to know is when can we have the money and we can’t wait all week like the rest of the times. I am quite sure you don’t want us trashing your house again trying to look for your money. This time we are deadly serious, yes deadly. Now understand me, brother, money in two days or else”

“Ok I will get it”

“I take it you understand me then, brother”

“Understood”

At that moment the ten pence dropped into the bottom of the phone coin box and the phone went dead, just a cold silence and no voices. Paul looked at his reflection in the window to the phone box and said, “Great, just great. another fine mess you got yourself into”. Paul got very drunk last night and being a regular user of cocaine couldn’t resist the temptation when somebody offered him some to buy. Paul began to trudge home in the cold breeze. He was thinking to himself, two days, four hundred pounds where am I going to get the money. Paul knew in himself that he would not be able to get the money in time. There was one person who Paul could ask to borrow money from and that was his dad. Bang, the idea hit Paul like a brick wall. He ran back to the phone box and with his second from last ten pence piece rang his dad. After a short time his dad had agreed to lend him the money but the trouble was that the money would only be ready for collection in three days. Paul came out of the phone box and softly pushed the door to behind him, knowing that he now was faced with another problem he had only got two days to get the money to the drug dealer’s boss and the money was coming in three days. “I know, I will risk it. Only a day later they won’t mind” so Paul set it at the back of his mind and forgot about it and just tried to live a normal life until the money arrived.

Time had now passed it was two days after the call. The so-called ‘Dark Angel’ was sat there looking at his watch: it was eleven fifty nine. It was the longest minute of the man’s life then twelve struck, clunk went the clip into the butt of the nine-millimetre handgun, with a gold encrusted eagle on the side of it, the gun looked stunning then a jet black silencer was screwed on to the barrel of the gun, the Dark Angel meant business. At approximately twelve twenty he pulled up in his car, to Paul’s two-bedroom house. It was tatty, messy, it even could do with a lick of paint; he looked at his watch to make sure. Out of the car he stepped and quietly clunked shut the door, he knelt down to the wing mirror of his car and flicked back his dread-locked hair and sat there staring into his jet-black pupil in the wing mirror. At this moment all the Dark Angel felt was anger towards Paul for not paying up again. He felt as if he had had enough of Paul, this was Paul’s last time “He’s going to get it” he said to himself as he continued staring into the black eternity. He stood up and placed the perfect weapon in his belt. There it gleamed shining like a beacon, ready for action, ready to possibly take life.

The Dark Angel went round to the back of Paul’s property. One thing he noticed was that Paul’s car had gone and well in truth Paul was actually travelling across the country some one hundred and fifty miles to his dad’s for the money and was to return in the afternoon tomorrow. Dark Angel slipped in to the house through an open window. Gun at the ready, he began to search through the cupboards downstairs looking for anything valuable. No money yet, Dark Angel was getting angry because there was no money in the house, he slid silently up the stairs stealthier than a cheetah on the savannahs of wildest Africa, both hunting a prize both ready for action. With his black glove on his hand he gripped the handle to the room closest to the top of the stairs, silently he began to edge it open. The door was about half a foot open then SLAM!!! It shut back in his face. Dark Angel was shocked and scared, he emptied his entire clip through the door into the bedroom. There he stood pointing his gun at a door with eight clustered holes in it, his eyes wide open and staring. Slowly he moved to the door and again gripped the handle, with the slow twist of his wrist he crept the door open. The door opened and glided to the wall and there on the floor laid a lady. Blood was everywhere; Fiona’s clothes were dripping in blood, a kind of cluster on her chest where the bullets had penetrated. Her eyes were wide open and amongst the blood bath a white shocked expression on her face, so innocent, so pure, so dead. The Angel felt disturbed more than ever; he was staring into the woman’s eyes as if in a staring competition. Her eyes were not shutting and the more he stared the more he got agitated. He threw the gun with all his force at the mirror, SMASH!!! He felt he needed to escape, he left the scene that seemed so unreal to him, blood, a dead body he didn’t need this he wanted out. So into the darkness the dark angel fled with a guilty conscience to leave a horrific picture in the upstairs bedroom for Paul to find.

‘DING DONG’ that was the fifth time Paul had rang the bell to his front house, he was getting pretty angry with Fiona now because she said she would be in to open the door. He leant up against the door and looked down the road but he could not see that far, the sun about three quarters through its cycle through the sky created an awkward glare. THUD!!! He booted the door with his heel in frustration; he decided to try round the back. He looked quite astonished to find the window wide open so he slid carefully into the house through it. “Honey, are you in?” he called to Fiona but no reply just a dead silence. Paul thought to himself she must be upstairs in the bedroom. He walked upstairs scratching his forehead as a bead of sweat that had just developed began to trickle down his cheek. He looked to the right then as he panned his vision round the door had eight precise holes in it. A cold chill ran down his spine, the hairs on his arms stood on end and a cold clammy feeling came over him.

Paul slowly put one foot in front of the other and pushed the door very slowly. Again the door just glided round to reveal a picture of horror and sheer pain. It sunk in. Paul just leant on the doorframe teary eyed and looking down at death. Her white face and blue lips contrasted heavily and made the image of her face a sorry sight. He edged closer doing the best to grip the wall for safety and knelt over Fiona’s face and stared into her eyes. The image had stuck, Fiona’s eyes made him feel weak almost as if he needed to escape from the eyes but it was too late, the image was imprinted in his mind. He stared long and hard thinking of what he was going to have to explain to people, that his girlfriend got murdered because of his drug problem. Paul felt like he was lost and would never find his way out never. After a few minutes of crying whilst clutching to Fiona’s clothes he ran down stairs and out on to the lawn not even with his shoes on. He jumped in his car and as quickly as he could he drove towards the cliff at Devil point. He felt he needed to escape those eyes burnt on the back of his retinas, it would be a constant reminder of Fiona lying there dead, silent, cold. If only he could control his need for drugs and good times this would have never have occurred, if only. He was there at the cliff, he knew what he had to do.

By Alex Toley