Free Terminus by Joshua Graham Page A

drowning while fighting the instinct to swim, to survive?  How cold was the water?
    Probably very cold.
    Dark and cold.  That was exactly how she envisioned her death, for such had been her life.  Nothing would stop her now.  She’d mentally rehearsed it for months.  Twice in the past week she’d come close, then changed her mind.  But she’d managed to get this far tonight. 
    No turning back.
    She had to do it—now.
    Just then, a seagull flew over her head and let out a plaintive cry.  It drew her eyes upward to a blue rectangular sign with white lettering that read:
     
    SUICIDE COUNSELING
    CRISIS TEAM 24 HOURS
    1-800-479-3339
     
    Too late. 
    Part of her wished someone would stop their car, get out, try to talk her down.  Not that she’d change her mind, she only wanted someone to know that she’d taken her own life—and why.  But that would really be inconsiderate of her, subjecting a good Samaritan to such a horrible memory.
    It’s time.
    With twitching fingers, she gripped the edge of the wall and climbed up.  The wind swept matted strands of hair into her tear-stained face.  She sucked in a sharp breath through teeth chattering despite the evening warmth.
    Just one step forward...
     
     
    Nick stood back from the ledge watching the subject, who looked utterly harmless to anyone but herself.  With one foot outstretched over the sixty-meter drop, she asked the cosmic question. 
    “Why, God?”
    Nick tried not to listen.
    He hated watching this.  He’d ushered the souls of many a suicide victim to the Terminus but always tried to avoid the scene just before they killed themselves.  With this assignment however, he was forced not only to attend a suicide but to facilitate it.
    She’s just one human.  If she goes ahead and jumps, it’s for the greater good of millions. 
    Nick got up on the ledge and stood behind her—floated, actually.
    The woman sobbed softly and pulled her foot back.
    Was she reconsidering?  This assignment was supposed to be easy.  Now he had to listen in to know what she was thinking.
     
    // I HAVE TO DO THIS.  NOTHING ELSE WILL STOP THE PAIN...//
     
    “That’s right,” he whispered into her ear.  “The pain.  There’s no other way to end it.”
    She nodded, sniffed, wiped her nose with her sleeve.  Then she looked up into the sky. 
    “I’m sorry.  I’m so, so sorry.”  She stuck her foot back over the ledge.
    “Make it right, then,” Nick whispered.  “Go ahead and jump.  Maybe that’ll help make up for what you’ve done.  You’ll—”
    “ What?” She pulled her foot back and started crying.  “It wasn’t my...”  The rest of her words were muffled by sobs.
    What kind of inane assignment was this, anyway?   Nick listened in.
     
    // NOTHING’S GOING TO BRING HER BACK.  I’M SORRY, GOD.  I KNOW YOU DON’T APPROVE OF THIS, BUT I CAN’T GO ON. //
     
    “Go ahead and do it.  It’s what you want, what you need,” Nick whispered, feeling increasingly uneasy about it all. “You’ll finally find...peace.” 
    “Peace, yes.” She leaned forward, trembling as she started tipping over the edge.
    A sudden chill wrapped around him, went through him.  Not a physical sensation, as he was not in a physical state.  It had been years since he’d experienced it. 
    The dark vapor.
    Memories flashed through his mind—questionable choices, unauthorized interventions, Sophia, Victoria Station, Clara…  
    In his dazed state Nick had taken his attention off the subject—now ready to spring, her knees bent.   He thought he heard Tamara’s voice but couldn’t be sure if it was really her: 
    “No matter what, Nikolai, you will always be loved...”
    With a profound gasp, the subject cried out, “I’m sorry!”
    Filled with anxiety and an odd sense of familiarity, Nick rushed out and floated directly in front of her. 
    “Wait!” 
    Astonished, she opened her eyes. 
    Those eyes. 
    Those emerald pools.
    But before he could