My Life

I came into this world an orphan, all alone. I wandered around, asking for help every day, whether it was money or just a meal. Money didn't come easy, but I could usually manage to eat once a day, and sometimes even twice. On the rare occasions when I couldn't get any food, I had to get by on just water.

Lying unconscious on the road one day, a wealthy elderly man tried to rouse me by shaking my entire body, but I remained unresponsive. Resorting to splashing water on my face, he succeeded in waking me up.

"Come with me; I'll help you join an orphanage."

No wonder he knew that I was an orphan. I look like an eyesore.

"I don't deserve it."

"What made you think like that?"

"Isn't it evident? I'm here instead of playing like the kids there," I pointed at the group of kids in the park beside us with an envious face.

"Everyone deserves an equal chance."

"Then why am I here?"

"Kid, not everyone gets a head start in life. Some endure harsh realities to climb up."

"Can I really make it in life?"

"Yes."

"Then, join me in an orphanage."

For the first time, a sense of happiness washed over me.

"Sure. Get in the car."

His voice sounded angelic. I sat in the car, dreaming that one day I could afford such a vehicle. Our journey began.

Time passed. He assured we'd reach the orphanage in half an hour.

Little did we know, it led to tragedy. A truck collided with our car. It smashed into a building, flipping over like a turtle. I struggled to open the door, emerging covered in blood. The pain was unbearable.

"Aaaaaaagh!"

I screamed in agony, but the desolate location meant no one heard. Tears flowed as I tried to rescue the old man. Both of us were drenched in blood, turning the scene into a haunting tableau of sorrow.

He is lying unconscious. I tried to wake him up.

"Old man, please wake up."

I shook him, hoping he would rouse from his unconscious state.

He finally woke up, and a heavy breath escaped me.

"I feared you'd ditch me, old man."

"I am fading away now, kid. Move forward in life."

His hand gently brushed my head and then fell lifeless.

"No, old man, don't leave me, please."

Powerless, he slipped away.

"Noooo," I sobbed, heartbroken. Tears flowed as his lifeless face held a lingering smile.

My tears just wouldn't stop, and someone, I don't even know who, decided to call the cops. The police showed up, took the old man's body away, and started asking me questions. But it seemed like they couldn't care less about what I was going through.

I bolted from there, running as fast and as far as my legs could carry me. The accident spot was close to a little town with not many people around. I entered the town, still trying to escape whatever was chasing me. But the blood I lost in the accident caught up with me, and I ended up falling down on the road, exhausted and defeated.

Exhaustion was about to claim my consciousness when an old woman appeared like a guardian angel. She led me to her humble abode, tenderly cleansing the blood-stained remnants clinging to my body. Then, with kindness only found in the hearts of the compassionate, she offered nourishment that provided both physical sustenance and a flicker of solace.

"What happened, son?" she asked.

"I met with an accident nearby."

"Oh! I am sorry."

"No need to say sorry, grandma."

It was the first time I called someone grandma.

"What happened to your parents, son?"

"I am an orphan."

Her eyes reflected a deep understanding. After some conversation, I learned that she runs the only restaurant in town, earning a modest living and finding happiness in her simple life.

I stayed at her house, becoming a silent companion in her routine. Everything seemed fine for many days. However, my life, for some reason, seemed destined for tragedy. One day, while my grandma was immersed in the comforting chaos of the kitchen, an explosion shattered the serenity, and the flames mercilessly devoured the haven she had created.

"Noooooooooo!"

I cried in agony, my heart torn apart. Desperation gripped me as I tried to save her, but the relentless flames had already claimed her. I attempted to flee the heart-wrenching scene, but a crowd had gathered around the smoldering remains of the restaurant. Firefighters arrived, extinguishing the remnants of the inferno, and the police questioned me, discovering that the explosion resulted from a gas leak.

Hearing this, a haunting memory surfaced. The night before the explosion, in the profound darkness caused by a power outage, I offered to clean everything. In the process, I unknowingly touched something, believing it to be a stack of plates. A peculiar smell lingered, but in the absence of light, I dismissed it as my imagination and left due to the power issue. Little did I know, it was the leaking gas.

If only I had never come to this place, grandma would still be alive. Regret, like a relentless tide, flooded my thoughts. I regretted becoming a harbinger of tragedy in her life. Overwhelmed with sorrow and guilt, I ran away, burdened by the heavy conviction that my very existence is a curse, leaving a trail of sorrow and despair.

I fled, the echoes of regret resonating with each footfall. A palpable heaviness in my chest carried the burden of countless poignant moments. My escape wasn't from the tangible world but from an internal agony so profound that it propelled me toward the desperate yearning to terminate my own existence. The recollections of the old man, a harbinger of hope for my growth, and the grandma, whose warmth wrapped around me like a motherly embrace, coiled within me like a frigid, sickening knot. Despite sharing a roof with her, I hadn't mustered the simple curiosity to ask for her name – a stark testament to my emotional detachment.

"I will put an end to it all," I whispered with an unsettling determination.

My quest for a suitable site to end my life led me to the skeletal frames of an under-construction building, a looming 50-storey tower.

As I ascended the structure, the unfinished floors blurred into a disorienting climb. Amidst this numbing climb, a chance encounter on one of the levels unfolded before me – a construction worker engaged in playful revelry with his little daughter. The child, no older than four, emanated unbridled joy, a stark contrast to my desolate state. The worker, a beacon of familial love, cradled his daughter in a tender embrace. The poignant scene intensified the void within me, and tears cascaded down my face like a relentless waterfall.

With a heightened sense of desperation, I continued my ascent, reaching the summit in a frenzied sprint. As I approached the precipice, my internal turmoil wrestled with the gravity of the moment. The edge beckoned, and as I hesitated, a profound sense of dread gripped my trembling body. Yet, the unwavering conviction that plunging into the abyss was a preferable alternative to enduring the relentless torment of my existence overpowered the fear.

And so, with a heart heavy with sorrow and regret, I jumped.