About That Sunday

Jessica: Off the Ledge.

"You're going, this is the role of a lifetime Jessica." Ian paced the floor of his office, his fingers ran through his hair in frustration.

"I won't." I stated as I stood from the chair. "I'm sorry but any other film but his."

I could feel the panic rise in my chest. When Ian said his name my entire world collapsed again.

'Richard Price wants you to lead his next film. He offered 20 million in advance.'

"You're going Jessica."

"I can't. Ian you don't understand."

I could feel my eyes beginning to fill with tears as my heart pounded in my chest. My mind was racing faster than it ever had before. The thought of seeing him again was suffocating me.

"Jessica, what if I go with you? I don't know why you're so reluctant but what if I was there?"

"I.... I don't know. Please let me think about it."

"I'll book the flights, even if we don't go to his I could line up some other auditions."

"Okay Ian."

I felt defeated, completely and utterly defeated.

I called for my ride to take me back to my apartment and left Ian in his office. The streets of New York were busy, people rushed past me on either side. All of them completely unaware of the fact that felt completely empty. The pain was gone. All that was left was the cool fall air. Even sound seemed to dissipate. There were no horns, no clicking from heels taping the grey sidewalks.

Eventually my ride pulled up along side of the curb. I climbed into the back and rested my head on the cold glass window.

"Take me home."

_____________________

Through blurry eyes I found the time on the home screen of my phone. The sun was coming up and flickering light through the windows in my living room. Five thirty in the morning. I sat up from the couch where I passed out and knocked over an empty vodka bottle. My life has resorted to this. Drinking every single night until I pass out. I couldn't shake the feeling of disgust that overwhelmed me just from hearing his fucking name.

My living room was a disaster. How I was feeling internally had manifested itself in the catastrophe that was my living room. There were bottles everywhere. The room held a lingering smell from the old stale liquor. There was no food in my fridge or cabinets. I haven't eaten in days. My stomach growled in pain and my hands were shaking rapidly. My nerves were shot. There was nothing left, nothing at all.

"I can't do this." I spoke to my empty apartment. "I can't do this anymore. I'm just too tired."

From the living room I slowly made my way to the bedroom. In my closet I found a dress. It wasn't extravagant or elegant, it was a simple black and white dress. I put it on and thought about what it would be like to be found in it. Would people even notice me disappearing?

It was never my intention to have these thoughts. No one wakes up and voluntarily wants to end their life but the pain of living was overwhelming me. The thought of not having to wake up to this agony had blissfully and completely filled my mind.

I thought about leaving a note or perhaps sending a simple text to those I loved but I didn't want to burden them.

Outside the door of my apartment was a metal door. It was four doors down on the right hand side. The lock on it was broken and I knew exactly where it led, to the roof.

It wasn't much of a climb, I was on the second to last floor. A lot of my neighbors smoked up here so they didn't have to wait for the elevator down to the ground floor. When I pushed open the roof access door a felt the cold autumn morning against my skin.