Oblivion

1

He lay on the ground, unnoticed and forgotten. Dozens of people passed him, few even glancing at him, unaware that the pile of dirty clothes and newspapers were indeed a person. His feet stuck out, one bare and one in a filthy, torn Converse shoe. Even when he coughed feebly, not one human being gave him a second thought. He shifted slightly. The cold wet ground hurt his back. His toes and fingers had turned to ice. His entire body was frozen. But he no longer shivered. There wasn't enough energy to shiver anymore. His eyes were too heavy to open. His soul was too destroyed to care.

He couldn't even remember how he'd ended up there. It had been too many years ago. He just wanted it all to end.

Now.

'Step away honey.' A woman said to her small child who had been curious about what was underneath the tattered papers.

'But Mummy, there's a man there.'

'Yes sweetie.'

'But why? Why is he outside?'

'Some people make bad choices in life. Some people drink away all their money so they have no homes.' The woman ushered the child away, looking over her shoulder at him with a look of disgust.

No. It wasn't like that, he thought bitterly. No one understood. This was his choice. This was his punishment for what he'd done. He had a home. A beautiful, warm, lovely home. But he couldn't go back there.

It began to rain again, soaking his makeshift blanket. But he couldn't move anymore. His time was close. Maybe that night. Hopefully before the morning. The nights were unbearably cold and long. But he prayed this was his final one.

He heard footsteps coming closer, talking, voices, noises. There was confusion. There was upset. He managed to open one eye a tiny bit to see what it was. He'd been beaten up many times before. It seemed only fitting that another would finish him off. Yet he saw a face above him that he recognised from a past life.

'I think it's him.' The face said, his brown eyes full of pain. 'That's him.'

'Jesus, call an ambulance.' A second man shouted.

No. Please don't. Leave me alone. But his thoughts went unheard. Too weak to speak aloud. He was draped in a warm coat. He'd almost forgot what warmth felt like. There were more faces around him. Talking. Noises. Crying. He felt two arms slipped underneath him, lifting him off the ground. Then the lights of the ambulance. The pain of a needle in his arm. A clip on his finger. The sound of sirens.

He cursed to himself. He couldn't even die properly. Why had they found him? Why couldn't they just leave him to rot? Didn't they see he just wanted to be left alone? He didn't want to be saved.