Mr. Mafia Man

Chapter XXVIII: The Fall

It took me about three seconds to realize that this was not a drill, I was legitimately falling off a fucking cliff.

The air whizzed around my ears for half a second, and the side of the cliff seemed like a blur as I did a slow-motion backflip, until I was facing the water at the bottom of the cliff. Correction, there was actually a surprisingly limited amount of water at the bottom of this particular cliff. In the water's place was a rather astounding amount of rocks that I was quite certain were not there before, when I had briefly glanced at what I was getting myself into before performing my backflip of Olympic proportion.

I tried in vain to remember if I had ever watched a YouTube video or read a WikiHow article about what to do when you have fallen off a cliff, but my dumbass brain came up blank. After trying to remember what to do for what felt like a solid 15 minutes, I realized that I was still falling.

Weird, I thought that your life was supposed to flash before your eyes in a moment like this, sad that all I could think about is YouTube and WikiHow articles though, to be fair, YouTube kinda is my life. Or was? When is the appropriate time to start referring to your life in 'was'es? Could I do that in the seconds before I die or do I have to be legitimately dead to do that? Good on me, asking the real question moments before my impending doom.

I wonder, what do normal people think about when they are about to die? What flashes before their eyes?

Probably their childhood. First time riding a bike by yourself, the first day of middle school, stuff like that. Maybe if they are lucky enough to survive to their thirties or forties before accidentally falling, or in my case, jumping off the edge of a cliff on purpose like a dumbass, they would think about their families, their weddings, first loves. I've never even had a first love. The only thing that came close to it is maybe pizza or perhaps Nicolas, if he hadn't broken up with me.

Too bad I would never be able to experience first love. Hell, I hadn't even experienced sex with someone. At some point in college I wore a purity ring to convince people that I was a virgin because I wanted to be, not just because the people I wanted to boink, didn't want to boink me back.

But wait a minute, my mind says to the other parts of my brain. I'm pretty sure there's a man that you want to boink who will gladly boink you back if you just ask. I knew exactly who my brain was referring to as well, and regrettably I had just fallen off a cliff in the opposite direction as him. Maybe the "I'll never be able to experience first love" was a little bit hasty, maybe I'll survive this whole ordeal and be able to fall in love with someone cute, and funny, and nice, and loving, and loves me for my annoying self. Who knows, maybe I already have. Ew, no I'm not thinking about Nicolas in the moments before my death. I'd much rather think about something I cared about more... like cupcakes.

Mmmm, yes cupcakes. The creamy chocolate, squishiness, the frosting is so sweet. Even stale cupcakes are good, even if they are a little bit hard. Hard... like abs, I love abs too, especially washboard abs, especially, especially ones like Nicolas had. Ugh, even when I try not to think about him, I always end up back here, thinking about him regardless.

It's like I'm obsessed with him or something. I'll admit, I was a little bit obsessed with him at first, but then after that first encounter I realized that he was an unbearable asshat with an inflated sense of self-worth. But he's my asshat with an inflated sense of self-worth, I remind myself before remembering that technically speaking, he had broken up with me, and so we really weren't each other's anything at the moment. I really must table this conversation because it isn't getting me anywhere and I have precious few moments to experience the rest of my life before I crash into one of the spiky rocks at the bottom of the cliff. I really don't think you're supposed to face imminent death by thinking about your ex-boyfriend like a dunce.

Is there even a correct way to approach a certain death? I suppose it doesn't really matter at this point, and I doubt it really ever will to me again seeing as in less than ten minutes I will have crash-landed at the bottom of a cliff.

And have I ever really done anything? Like sure I've done stuff, mostly dumb stuff, but I've never actually done anything significant with my life. I've basically just stood around like dead weight and let others do all the heavy lifting. And who gets kidnapped not once, not twice, but three times before the age of 30? I really don't think that's such a good record for me.

Hmm, but what would I realistically have done better had I not, unfortunately, decided to jump off this cliff? No way could I have cured cancer, or ended world hunger, but no one can really. But I could have at least tried. Was I even really happy? I mean, sure, I had some great times, but overall was I happy?

I don't think so. My parents never really cared about me, and if I'm being honest, neither did I. I spent my school years studying for tests and doing school work, so I never really had time for close friends unless they could give me something. If I'm being honest the only person who ever legitimately loved me was a certain Gang Guy. And if I'm being even more honest, being with him were some of the happiest times in my admirably short life.

What am I supposed to do with that information?

The water was becoming increasingly closer and my thoughts became increasingly more scattered as I realized that there was no way to possibly delay the inevitable. I've never been one for religion, but maybe here was the time to start praying. My mom was always a non-practicing Catholic, and my dad preferred Buddhism (he was just kinda hippie), so I was always confused about what I was supposed to believe. But I guess if the majority of the world believes in the God of Abraham, I guess I can too.

I'm not even sure how to pray; like how do you start it? Like a letter?

Dear God. Yeah that sounds right. I am a fucking dumbass, and I sincerely apologize for that, but please, please, let me into heaven when I get there, I do not want to be stuck in hell with Hitler, and Nicolas. But if Dmitry is in hell, then fuck you, and send me right on down the sinful staircase. Sincerely, Evelyn. That's probably good enough right? I sure hope so because I'm running out of time.

It's like I'm about to take a quiz about the afterlife and religion and I haven't studied for 22 years. Classic me.

However, the last few moments before I hit the water at the bottom of the cliffs, I was not thinking about God, I wasn't thinking about the afterlife, or my immortal soul. What, or rather who, I was thinking about during my last few precious minutes was fucking Nicolas of all people.

His handsome face, his rock hard pectorals, and the fact that he always knew how to handle my shit. Why didn't I just accept his apology when I had the chance? Because I quickly realized, I didn't want to die, I didn't want to escape and run into the forest and live there like a little gremlin for the rest of my life. What I wanted to do was hold Nicolas, and hang out with him.

I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.

I loved him.

My eyes widened.

Then I hit the water.

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😳

-3AMmayhem