219

Prologue

On the eve of January 1st of this year, I looked on to the turning of the calendar with mixed feelings.  Excitement and foreboding sentiments thrummed through my veins as the clock neared twelve, knowing I had finally reached my long anticipated fork in the road.

The contrasting emotions warring within me represented each of the options I had.  Following the path my more enthusiastic persona led me towards would bring happiness and fortune, of that I had no doubt.  While these rewards would take considerable effort and patience on my part, there is no question that they would be worthwhile.

Hell, it's the better option.  The high road.  The path of scattered darkness that ultimately leads to light.

I should choose it.

But as I stare at the scars that litter my body, both self-inflicted and not, and recall the pain and hurt from the past several years of my life; think of all the sleepless nights, the inconsolable losses, and the empty ache in my heart...

I know I will carry out the plan I had set in motion beforehand.

From the neighbor's apartment only a wall's width away, I can clearly hear the eager voices of party attendees over the arguing of my parents.  One in particular rings out above the others, "Guys, the ball's about to drop!"

I rise, in a trance, and reach for the bucketful of paper slips I had prepared the previous weekend.  I look inside at the scraps, contemplating my decision once again.

"Ten!"

Should I really do this?

"Nine!"

I won't be able to back out if I go through with it...I wouldn't let myself back out.

"Eight!" 

This isn't a good idea...I shouldn't even be considering this. What the hell is so bad that-

"Seven!"

"What do you want from me, b*tch?" I hear my father yell.  "I do everything in the house, what else could you possibly want?"

"Six!"

"Everything?" My mother snorts derisively. "You don't do anything! If it wasn't for me, you and the slut would be on the streets!"

"Five!"

Slut.

"Four!"

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Three!"

My hand reaches into the bucket, brushing past the initial layer of options.

"Two!"

I grasp one and retract my hand, fingers tightly holding onto the slip of paper.

My fate.

"One!"

I lower the paper to the ground in time with a sphere nearly 3000 miles away.

219.