April: An Epilogue

Okay so where to start?
                        How about the part that the only girl that I have ever loved has been dead for the past thirteen years? Or how about the fact that even when I was with her, she was deceased? Sound good? Want me to go on? Well, you don’t have a choice, whoever you are. To be totally fucking honest, I don’t even know why I’m bothering to write this down. You won’t believe it, plus I don’t want to go in to all the goddamn details anyway. Hell, you won’t even probably read it. I’ll probably just burn it up or screw it into a ball and toss it in the trash.
                        Maybe I just want something tangible. Anyway, I don’t care. I’m past that. Way fucking past it. I’ve been working the same shitty job for the past eight years, doing night shift stocking shelves at a small town grocery store in Kentucky. My parents thought it would be good for me to get out of Aderson, away from everything that happened in that quiet Indiana town. That was after six years in and out of psychiatric hospitals. They thought I was delusional or some such bullshit. I’m not. Fucked up beyond the point of fixing, yes, but delusional, no.
                        The only people that actually seemed to believe me were the typical ghost hunter folk that would appear at the door every now and again, wanting a first hand account of it all. I spoke to them to begin with, I think I just wanted somebody to talk to that didn’t think I was totally bonkers. But the novelty soon wore off, I got no closure, they would just sit there with a blood thirsty look in their eyes, lapping up every detail. They didn’t care about her, they just cared for their proof that something existed beyond death.
                        I walked out of my job at around five AM this morning; I’m supposed to stay till six but I’m not coming back. I’m going to do what I should have done that night in the park, but never had the guts to do.
                        My blood should have spilt on that snow, beside that partly-frozen pond.
                        I should have been dead years ago.

I soon give up on the idea of a ‘diary’, I really don’t see the point.
I climb behind the wheel of my battered station wagon and head out of the parking lot and across town towards the I-65, to travel north to Indiana. I have everything that I need, my cigarettes are on the passenger seat and the handgun that I bought a few months back from some old guy in a seedy little bar, is in the glove compartment.
The digital clock on the dash reads 2:00, I should reach Aderson at around sunset. I had crashed out on the couch after attempting the journal, only woke up about an hour ago.
I pull onto the 65, in the direction of Louisville. The day is overcast, grey clouds loom in the sky above me. I can’t help but think of her. April.
She was the prettiest thing I have ever laid eyes on, that’s for sure. Blonde hair, the cutest fucking smile. We were meant to be together. We both knew that. Unfortunately, as I had started to guess, she wasn’t quite what she seemed. As in, she was dead, had been the past three years. Drowned one winter’s morning in Everett’s Park while she was trying to try her skates out on the ice. The short time that we spent together was blessed, but it came to an end one snowy night. She went on to wherever it was that she went once she had found peace, and I was left to pick up the pieces.
I should’ve gotten my hands on my father’s gun as soon I had the chance. I should have known that if I stuck around for any length of time, I would be drowning in misery. But hell, I was only seventeen. The fucked up thing is I don’t even know if I’m too late. What if I go somewhere else when I die? What if I’m stuck wandering the streets of Aderson as a ghostly apparition? But whatever, the way I see it, things can’t get any worse.

The sun’s sinking into the horizon when I pass the welcome sign of the little town. The streets are quiet, as expected, drifts of snow are piled on the side of the roads and the trees stand skeletal and contorted.
                I don’t bother to call into my parent’s house. What am I supposed to say to them anyway? “Hey, just calling in to say hi, I’m off to the park to put a bullet in my head. No, I won’t stay for coffee but thanks anyway.”
I feel a little bit sorry for my kid sister Rebecca. Though, she’s not so much a kid anymore. Last time I heard she was getting into a bit of trouble for sneaking out to parties and shit like that.
                I turn into the street that my old high school is on and slip a cassette in to the tape deck. It’s decorated with little stick on stars. I had made it for April and given it to her once upon a time. I found it in the park the week after that cursed night. Surprisingly it still worked after being left out in the snow. I haven’t been able to bring myself to listen to it until now.
                I cut the engine next to the park and sit and smoke one last cigarette. I feel surprisingly calm, like a great weight has been lifted from my soul. I pitch the butt out of the window as the first song of the cassette ends and retrieve the gun from the glove compartment. I don’t bother locking the car.
                Snow starts to fall as I traipse across the park. I pass the swing-set that I spent so much time on growing upon, and head towards the shrubbery at the park’s rear.
                Branches snag my clothing as I beat my way through the undergrowth. I just about lose my footing and fall several times. Then, suddenly I’m at the edge of the pond. I drop to my knees upon the snow-covered ground and gaze up at the sky.
                ‘Please. Please April. I pray it’s not too late for us.’
                I pull the hammer back and slip the barrel into my mouth. It tastes metallic and cold. It feels like home.
                I mutter a barely-audible  prayer and pull the trigger.