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Rated: ASR · Fiction · Tragedy · #1289835
This is a flash fiction piece of a woman who has become overwhelmed with her life.
Is there really a point? A point to pushing through the pain every day just to wake to another day filled with the same suffering, until one day you eventually die anyway?

These were the thoughts she had daily. This is what occupied her mind 24/7. This was her struggle and this was to be the last day of that struggle…..

‘Damn it. The car is heating up and needs more oil. I don’t need this today.’ She slammed her hands on the steering wheel and then broke into tears, laying across the wheel for support. ‘Why is everything such a struggle? Can’t just one thing in my miserable life be easy?’

She swallowed hard and the tears disappeared. She crawled out of the car and into the rain to open up the hood of her car. She had to wait for the engine to cool a little before adding anti-freeze, so she started with the oil. Leaning in to get to the dip stick she smeared grease along the bottom of her white shirt – ‘Damn it’.

While trying not to further destroy the shirt she stretched to pour the oil into the hole and spilled it. Oil running all over other engine parts. She managed to get the rest into the tank and the anti-freeze filled and back into her car. Dripping wet she sat staring out the window. She wasn’t looking at anything in particular, just starring. Becoming numb, becoming lost in nothingness.

A chill snapped her back to reality and she realized that now she’d be hitting the bulk of morning traffic. She managed to get the car started and headed down the road.

Slow cars annoyed her, upset her, started her blood boiling. ‘Get out of the passing lane you idiot!’ Tail lights in the distance proved that this morning’s drive to work would be exhausting and time consuming. She didn’t like long drives – it gave her too much time to think. It was dangerous when she had time to sit and think.

As she moved slowly down the highway her thoughts began to flood her with sorrow and an emptiness so deep that it made her ache.

She thought of her life, or lack thereof, and how little of it was even worth mentioning. She thought of getting older with this pain tagging along and how unbearable it would be to face alone. But that’s what she was – alone. She had no family, no partner, no children. She would grow old alone and suffer in silence – day after cruel day.

Tears were streaming down her face now, blurring what little she could see through the rain that was pouring down outside. The ache in her heart was incredibly painful and growing stronger with every beat. It’s as if it were on fire and she could feel it burning up into nothingness inside her.

For forty years this pain and emptiness has haunted her and there was no end that she could see to that pain.

Before she knew it she was driving up the ramp to the bridge to go across the river.

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Traffic was rerouted to another ramp as the emergency crew worked feverishly to extract the vehicle that had plunged off the bridge during morning rush hour. The river was filled with rescue boats and bystanders trying to get a view as they raised the car from the bottom of the river bed.

The diver, who was now in the boat, was shaking his head. She didn’t make it.
© Copyright 2007 WordSmith (writersvoice at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1289835-Depths-of-Despair