Snowdrop [Complete]

Snowdrop

Happy Reading

Trigger warning: suicide, mental abuse

When I had pictured this moment, the mountains were here, the sky was the exact shade of pink it is now but in my vision, I was standing on the shoulder of a mountain with my arms open, hair flying and an euphoria was taking over my body as I was preparing for the liberation from the endless spiral of misery, they call my life, at least that's what they show in the movies.

Yet, I am here, on the Kalka- Shimla Road, preparing to stand on the edge and jump into the valley with no surging euphoria, no happiness with just a dull look and dead expression in my eyes.

This is it?

An uneventful death of my eventful life?

I have no will to live, no strength to go on. I am tired not physically but emotionally and mentally.

So, this is my end?

I look around, I have to look around. A mini van passes behind me, shaking the trees near the blind turn with its speed. This is the last time I'll see life, in its actual form. What happens next? I become a ghost or I'll know nothing but oblivion from this point forward?

I try to dust these thoughts off my mind but curiosity had always gotten the better of me and today was no different. I couldn't stop thinking of what led me here, what could've been different in life or what will happen ahead. I keep thinking, I don't force myself to do something I don't want to in the last minutes of my life. I keep walking and wondering. I keep wondering as I walk closer to the edge, close my eyes and put my first step out in the valley.

And I feel a great pull.

Gravity?

The next thing I know is that my knees hurt. They hurt a lot. I can feel the ground. I can still feel. I slowly and gradually open my eyes and look around, again.

I am certainly not in a valley and there are no injuries from falling. I am sitting on the same road I was intending to jump from and there is a woman, wearing a blue kurta and white trousers, crouching on the road next to me. She's middle aged and is panting.

"Who are you?" I ask her.

"Seriously?" She says, still catching her breath. "What do you think you were doing, young lady?"

I can't find an answer.

She gets up and offers me her hand.

"Your knees are a little bruised but could've been worse if I didn't save you."

"W-why did you save me?" I hear my voice cracking. I don't take her hand.

"You want to have this conversation in the middle of the road?"

I look at her, blankly.

"I didn't save you to be run by a truck in the middle of the road. Move."

"I am tired." I say in a soft voice.

"I'm not going to pick you up."

"For someone who saved someone else's life, you are really mean." I almost shout.

She returns my blank look.

"I didn't want to be saved. I am tired ... tired of being me"

"It's okay. Come with me, you can fix it."

"EASY FOR YOU TO SAY"

"Come with me, please."

She offers me her hand again. This time she looks motherly and concerned but when have I known concern or love to understand how she is looking?