Suicide

Dreams that come true

It was the next day... or many days later... or after no time at all... when the stone door was opened.

I expected to see Death but instead, there stood a 17 year old girl, staring at me.

"I'm sorry." She mumbled. "Wrong room."

It was a relief to hear someone's voice again so as she turned to leave, I stopped her. "Please, don't go! Stay!"

She stared at me for a second, then came in and sat down in front of me. "How are you feeling, Heather Parks?"

"I don't know..."

She frowned. "I felt the same way. But then, everything became better."

"It did?" I asked.

"Yes. But it won't work for you." She replied, softly. "You're destined for Hell. You don't get any comfort..."

The only thing I felt was a strange hollowness... nothing else.

"Well, anyway. I'm Margaret Thatcher. Born in Arizona on 1915. Lost my first husband to the 2nd World War. I lost 3 of my children to the epidemic and the last one died when a drunk driver crashed into her car in 1987. I died in 1990."

"You killed yourself?"

"No! That's not a solution! I realised in time..."

"You tried to do it, didn't you?" I asked.

She leaned forward and whispered. "Yes. I did. I put a gun in my mouth the night my daughter died. But when I felt the cold metal against my tongue, I felt as if it wasn't worth it. I was right."

"Wish that had happened to me." I muttered.

"But we can't change the past, dear. What's done can't be undone. Though, the others in this building try to revive themselves."

"Revive? How?!" I asked, desperately.

"This is where those who committed suicide live. Every night, they try to restart their heart."

"Oh." Was all I could say.

Margaret told me a lot about her past and then, she left.

But she left two things behind.

One, a strange heartache. It hurt that she had been through so much. My problems were nothing compared to hers. But I wasn't brave enough to face them. Margaret lost a father, a mother, a husband,a brother, a son and two daughters. But she had lived on... I hadn't.

Two, hope. Hope, that I could be revived. Hope, that I could restart my heart and have a new beginning. Hope, that I could undo this.

When I was young, I wished that my dreams would come true... how foolish of me, not to realise that nightmares were dreams too.

I saw shattered hopes in a bad dream, once. That dream came true...