7

As I sit there on the carpet, my mind races with questions and doubts, wondering if everything I thought I knew was a lie. The room feels suffocating, and I struggle to catch my breath. Could it be possible that the very people responsible for ensuring a peaceful passing are the ones who initiate it? The thought sends chills down my spine, and I can't help but wonder if the location of the room played a part in the failed attempt. Maybe it wasn't a medical advancement that allowed us to know when we would die, but rather, a fabricated date to keep us in line.

My head spins with these thoughts, and I feel like I'm going to pass out. I sit on the carpet, holding my head in my hands, trying to make sense of it all. Maybe swallowing the pill I still have in my hand would make it easier for me to accept my fate. Perhaps I would be more like the man on the stretcher, peaceful and resigned. But something inside me rebels against the idea of giving in so easily.

I know I have to leave this room, and the only way out is through the window. The thought of climbing out onto the ledge and jumping down to the ground below is terrifying, but I can't stay here any longer. I have to take the risk. As I stand at the window, looking out at the mountains in the distance, I try to imagine myself soaring through the air, free as a bird. The wind whips through my hair, stinging my eyes, but I ignore the discomfort, focusing instead on the vision in my mind.

With a deep breath, I push the window open further and pull myself up onto the ledge. My toes curl into the carpet, and my hands grip the edges tightly as I stare out at the horizon. The drop below is dizzying, but I try to push the fear aside, focusing instead on the possibility of freedom. As I prepare to jump, I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, but I know that this is the only way out. Whether I survive the fall or not, I know that I can't stay here any longer. The future is uncertain, but at least it will be mine to decide.