Free Chances Aren't by Luke Young Page B

like she can be a total bitch on occasion, but ninety percent of that is my fault. She was all I had left in this world and if there were ever any chance of reconciliation, it's certainly all gone now.
    I quietly make my way upstairs to the bedroom and close the door. It's after four and I figure I should take a shower and get out of the house as quickly as I can before Emily wakes. Stepping before the mirror in the bathroom, I look at my reflection shaking my head in disgust. "You're such an ass. It's not enough that you fuck up your own life you've got to take other people down with you."
    I strip off my clothes and climb in the shower playing the night over in my head. I just asked a woman I barely know to give up her life and take off to Key West with me. What the hell was I thinking? She should have thrown me out right then. Shit. I can't take this anymore. I hate my life. I've hated it for a long, long time. I just don't want to do it anymore— I don't see the point. I know what I have to do and I'm going to do it today, but I need to confirm one thing first. I can't leave her with this financial mess.
    After getting dressed, I make my way downstairs into my office and close the door. I open the file drawer and pull out the folder labeled Life Insurance and pull out the policy. Scanning the index, I find the suicide clause is on page six.

    Suicide: We will limit the proceeds we pay under this policy if the insured commits suicide, while sane or insane:
    1. within 2 years from the Date of issue; and
    2. after 2 years from the Date of issue, but within 2 years from the effective date of the last reinstatement of this policy.

    They've got to be fucking kidding me, right. I mean, I'm no lawyer, but if I read this correctly, I'm welcome to kill myself at any time and any way I choose as long as I don't do it within that two-year period and Emily gets a big check. I'm safely inside the window where the policy will pay, but I still need to make it look like an accident. I don’t want my mother having to live with the knowledge that I made this choice and I don't want Emily dealing with that either. Better they both think it was just an unfortunate event, but if somehow the investigators do figure out the truth, knowing that Emily's financial problems would still be resolved makes this much easier to justify to myself. Sighing, I close my eyes— it's sad that I've gotten to this point and it's even sadder being worth more dead than alive.
    I really don't want to admit it, but I've been planning this day for the better part of ten years. I'm numb and oddly calm as I straighten the papers on my desk, pulling out a few unpaid bills and placing them where Emily will easily find them. Having sex with my neighbor was never part of the plan, but even if she is regretting it and I feel like an ass for doing it, it was still an amazing last memory.
    There is nothing left for me to do at home since I can't leave a note for obvious reasons. I need to wrap up a few things at work because I don't want to leave a mess for Greg. He's always been good to me.
    Driving to work one day about five years ago I watched as a young woman pulled her car out in front of me as I was making a right turn. Behind me was a huge truck riding on my tail that she must not have seen, although I don't know how she could have missed it. Maybe she thought the truck was turning right with me, but he didn't. The truck slammed into her driver's side door and she died instantly. Maybe she wanted it that way, or maybe she was working the late shift at her job and in her exhaustion made a little mistake that cost her her life. Either way, after I witnessed that event, the car crash became my chosen exit strategy. Everything else seems either too messy, too painful or two difficult to pull off making it look like an accident. Dozens of people make mistakes behind the wheel every day and don't walk away.
    I've had my location picked out for a long time and it's