Authors: Tom Reinhart
Epilogue
Other Voices
The Jumper
I couldn’t breathe, a combination of sheer paralyzing fear and the incredible wind pushing into my face as I fell. I saw the ground coming, fifty stories racing towards me like a freight train. I felt my heart stop and my bladder release. Every muscle in my body tensed solid in pure panic and shock.
Oh my god I’m going to die.
It probably only took seconds, but it felt like slow motion. My mind raced. My life didn’t flash before my eyes, but all my loved ones did; my husband, my children, my sister. It seemed as though I had visions of their reactions to my death, and sensations of their grief. It made me feel guilty for doing this to them. In the final seconds before I knew I would hit the ground, I just prayed to not feel any pain.
God didn’t hear me. I felt it all.
The tremendous impact was a mixture of sensations. I felt bones crack and push into my insides. My teeth breaking seemed to stand out the most. There was a brief moment of exhilaration when I realized I’m still alive, and there was a moment of hope. Then I realized my head was facing the wrong way, my neck severely broken. The pain grew steadily, starting with a surreal numbness immediately after the impact, and quickly increasing to an incredible magnitude that made it impossible to think.
I saw people running past me. Police and ambulances went by. Yet no one stopped. No one paid attention to me. My own broken teeth on the sidewalk cut into my cheek as I tried to drag myself a few feet to get someone to notice me.
I saw a man next to me, lying in the road. His head was cracked wide open, his limbs twisted unnaturally. I think he jumped with me. I can’t remember. I was sure he was dead, until his eyes opened and he tried to speak to me with what was left of his face.
* * * *
The Motel Man
I watched the vulture tear at the flesh on my face, with the one eye I had left. I could only look upwards, as I lay in pieces in the parking lot. I feel every bit of the pain, yet I’ve somehow moved past being afraid of it. I wanted them to kill me, to end my suffering, and I am grateful that they tried. I guess I just can’t die, although I don’t understand why.
It was just supposed to be a business trip, like I had taken every week for the last year. It was when I found the letter from my wife in my suitcase that everything went wrong. The letter that said she wouldn’t be there when I got home, that she was done with me and our marriage.
I tried to call her all week, tried to concentrate on my work, tried to fight the urge to fly home and find her. I finally got her on the phone on Thursday night, when she told me she was in a year-long affair and had finally gotten the courage to leave.
The personal trainer, she said, made her feel like a real woman again.
On Friday morning I bought the shotgun.
I’ll show her
.
Just wait ‘til they find me in this room with my brains splattered on the fucking wall.
I felt every bit of the blast. I thought there would just be nothingness. Instead at first there was sheer panic. Incredible pain that I thought I would never know about now shocked every nerve in my body as I lay on the bed feeling half of my face missing. I saw my brains on the wall as I reached for the phone, desperately trying to call 911.
Oh my god help me. I didn’t mean it.
I couldn’t understand why no one answered the phone. It’s 911 for Christ’s sake. Where was everyone? I remember stumbling to the bathroom, seeing myself in the mirror, and vomiting. I remember the moment my heart stopped because there was no blood left to pump. I remember the moment I realized I was no longer breathing. Then came the confusion. My brain couldn’t tell if I was dreaming or awake. It was like being on some powerful drug and a bad high. The world became surreal, and the bathroom became my world. Time became meaningless. As I lay on the cold tile floor, I knew I was dead, yet I was self-aware. I slipped in and out of consciousness, often with hallucinations. At some point I thought I saw an angel standing in the bathroom doorway; a beautiful woman with golden eyes and large white wings. She stood in the doorway looking at me, and I was sure she had come to take me to Heaven. Then she turned and left me there, a living corpse on the bathroom floor. She left me, like my wife had left me, and then I remembered how I got this way.
I knew days were passing by. Weeks even. I could smell myself. Flies filled the bathroom and I could feel the maggots burrowing into my flesh. And always was the pain. The pain never left, as if the shotgun was continuing to go off in my face, over and over and over. I surrendered to it until it made me laugh, and I knew I was going insane. All I wanted was to die. All I wanted was for this to be over. All I wanted was for that bitch to know what she made me do. All I wanted was for her to still love me.
I heard those people come into the room. For a brief moment I thought maybe they’ll take me to a hospital and save me. Then I laughed, knowing the best I could hope for was for them to put me out of my misery. I didn’t mean to scare them. I wouldn’t hurt them, I don’t think. I’m just confused and I need this pain to end.
I didn’t fight them as they beat me into pieces. I thought maybe this was the way to the end. Life is cruel. God is crueler, I know this now, as I lay here in pieces feeling the vultures eat me, wondering when I’ll actually be dead.
* * * *
Roses were red,
Violets were blue,
But the messiah came,
Now they’re all the same hue.
Blackened with ash,
Covered with dust,
The price of our sins,
Greed, gluttony, and lust.
I hope you enjoyed reading this book as much as I enjoyed writing it. There is a lot more to come. I consider my readers to be my friends, and I love hanging out and interacting with them. I am their biggest fan. You can find me on Facebook, Twitter, Google+, and my personal website at www.TomReinhart.com
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Thanks for taking this ride with me.
~Tom Reinhart
www.TomReinhart.com
Copyright © 2014 Tom Reinhart
All Rights Reserved