Hester sighed softly aloud, listening to the sound as it echoed lightly upon the walls of Freddie's flat; as it weaved in and out with soft harmony through the cracks of the creaky wooden floor. Swallowing hard, she leaned forward a bit into the desk, holding her head up with one hand; entangling her fingers into her soft black mane and gripping lightly. Perhaps in angst.. Perhaps in frustration. Predictably both.
"Just accept that it is not your fault. It really isn't Freddie. You can not help who you are, as I can not help what I am."
Suddenly, sickeningly, the words on the page confused themselves in her mind.. They all blended together into a bland pool of the same things; Anger, hatred; Shame. That thick shame that had encased itself around her the very moment she lost herself in his bright blue eyes. These same emotions that had made her so completely without feeling.. It wasn't just because he had forgotten her birthday. That would be ignorant. A waste of time. Not because he was away the entire weekend without so much as a phone call, either, as much; but because of that bitter realization of the truth that had sunk into her. Zero minus zero was still zero; no matter how many different ways you tried to switch the numbers back and forth. There would always be nothing in return.
She let her eyes open slowly from where they had fallen closed; and the words were the only thing she saw on the page. Written out in black ink, in handwriting all too her own. She found herself staring with dead eyes; swallowing again after an uncomfortable amount of time and picking up the letter in her hand -- folding it up and slipping it into the envelope addressed 'Freddie'. For a moment longer she sat there within that wooden chair, at the desk, slumped slightly in her posture and holding the envelope, staring down at it. Rubbing her thumb slowly back and forth upon the paper; feeling the slightly rough dryness underneath the soft, womanly flesh of her hand. This was it.. This was the end.
No. It would be the end. Not yet. There's still a chance to turn back; to rip up the letter and forget it. But was there really such a chance? Was it worth living? To live baring the knowledge that it would never really be?
She stood up with a deep breath, blinking and curling slightly a bit more into her robe, standing and walking over numbly to the table. Her heart was pounding softly in her chest; she could feel each pulse in her temple; hear it thundering in her ears as it sped up -- exhilarated with adrenaline. She was going to die. She knew she was going to die. Though she felt so numb, so dead though she still breathed, she could feel the flame of anger deep within her gut; burning brightly at herself, for getting into this situation. At him, who caused this all.. Without him, she would still be with William; not particularly happy, perhaps, but at least not so stupidly and childishly in love.
Freddie Page. He who said those three words so easily, though he didn't really mean them. He who spoke lies so perfectly through his teeth. The angel faced man that always knew so perfectly how to get his way; bringing out his sweet innocence just when he needed to. He who had forgotten her; who had abandoned her for a good game of golf with the boys. Who snapped at her for every little flaw, every little mistake, and then watched with that smug smirk as she came crawling back -- yearning pathetically for forgiveness. He whom, and with complete knowledge of it, held complete power over her.
The very glimmer of these thoughts enraged her. They took over her mind and wrenched it forcefully into fog and flame. With that same zombified, numb feeling, she anxiously grabbed forth the bottle of pills and shook the remainder of them into her hand. There were twelve left.. That had to be enough.
After not a moment's pause, she crammed them into her mouth and washed them down with a class of water, feeling every one of those small white capsules as they slipped down her throat. This was it.. There was no going back now. She knew she hadn't the physical nor mental motive to gag herself.
After carefully placing the letter upon the fireplace, she walked with a stone-like expression, though an endless sea of different emotions was washing over her and making her knees weak.. Making her back ache. Exhausting her. Lying out a blanket on the floor and turning on the gas-powered flame. Easing herself onto the floor, Hester smiled slightly as she stared ahead. Perhaps now she could finally be free of him.. Free of the chains she bore of him; of the emotional and lethal mental attachment she was forced to have for him. Her mind drifted then; to memories of the first time she saw him. She felt her heart tug in her chest until it began to race; speeding and thudding so forcefully that she believed in any moment it would burst from her chest and pain the walls red. She felt her cheeks flush as he looked at her, his piercing blue eyes staring straight through her and claiming forth her heart and soul...
Resetting her jaw, her gaze grew slightly hard. No. She would never be free of him.. It was love, that's all.. He was life and death. But at least, perhaps in death she could stay angry at him.. She wouldn't have to see those big blue eyes and be emotionally abused into forgiving him. It was over.. Thank god, it was over.
Slowly, she let her eyes fall closed; giving into the darkness that so desperately beckoned to her. Goodbye, Freddie. My love, my darling. Finally, I am free of you.
Suddenly, sounds began to again fill her ears; which had gone deaf only a moment ago.
"Mrs. Page.."
Was that Mrs. Elton? The landlord?
No.. It couldn't be. Mrs. E was still alive.
"Mrs. Page..!"
It was Mrs. E.. No. This couldn't be true. She began to panic through her thick exhaustion; her dreariness. Suddenly, she became weary. Sick to her stomach with regret, with fear and sadness. Mumbling.. Someone was mumbling. Yelling her name. Was it Freddie? No.. Someone else.
She opened her eyes to a blurred vision. Oh god.. She was alive. She was still alive, she had lived through her suicide.
She opened her mouth to speak. Oh my god.. But had she actually said it? She couldn't find her tongue, couldn't sense her voice. She squeezed her eyes shut again, begging; silently screaming for the darkness to return. This couldn't be real.. She couldn't have actually lived.
Nonetheless, the sounds among her were real. She had opened her eyes and saw the shapes of the flat. Suddenly, her heart sped up with a mixture of mortified fear, embarrassment, and shame.. Again she was ashamed.
Oh Freddie forgive me.. Please forgive me. I've lived.
((I take no credit for this idea; it is merely me writing a scene from The Deep Blue Sea (2011) from Hester's point of view.))
