Death Comes Easy

CHAPTER 1

It is 7 o'clock in the evening and I'm sitting in a luxurious penthouse suite at the plush Villagio Complex in Accra. I'm all by myself, and I'm heavily drunk. I slump back against the large leather sofa and pour myself another glass of brandy. My sixth glass. Its amazing that I can still keep count. I can't deny the effect however. At this point I'm threading on the thin lines of oblivion, but I manage to stay focused. It is necessary.This is the most important day of my life. Not the best, but the most important. I have had much better days. Maybe that is why its so hard to believe this is my last day on earth. Its even harder to believe everytime the good memories come flooding in. At this point, I can't hold back the nostalgia as it kicks in forcefully. It feels poignant, but I smile to myself. I start to remember the good times. I remember the parties, the luxury cars, the wild club nights, the hotels and the exotic beaches. Most of all I remember the beautiful women. There were many. Images run through my mind - beautifull faces and voluptuous curves. But I shake it off. I don't want to think about that now.

I just want to relax and enjoy my last few breaths. Yes my life was good. Now I'm looking forward to the next. I have always wondered about death and what lies beneath its mysterious, murky waters but the answers have forever remained elusive. Well, not for long. For a brief moment, I consider heaven and hell but I abandon the thought almost immediately. I have long given up on religion. I remember the sunday schools and all the inspirational stories from the bible, but that is just about it. Most of my life I've been accountable to no one but myself. I have lived it without once questioning my prerogative to do what I wanted. Maybe that is the reason I feel this way. Perhaps if I had listened more closely I'll find some answers now. I wonder if I should pray for forgiveness? I hardly even linger on the thought. I wouldn't mean it if I tried. Its just not me.

I'm almost ready now. There is nothing much to think about again. I stand up and struggle hard to maintain my balance. I'm as drunk as hell but I know what I'm doing. I stumble across the sitting room and find my way into the bedroom. I lock the door firmly behind me and turn around. I can almost picture a naked girl stretching and smiling at me from the bed, but I can safely leave that to the good old days. Here, there is only death to keep me company. I sit on the bed and clasp my face in both hands. Now I'm crying. The tears fall fast and heavy, but I quickly brush them off. Self pity wouldn't help much now. I raise my head up and find myself staring into a mirror at the far end of the room. I can't believe how much I've changed. I know I'm handsome. I've been told countless times by countless people, but now its hard to believe the creature looking at me from the mirror is me. I'm a big mess. I make my way closer to the mirror, all my attention focused on this creature that is now me. Its still the same handsome face, but the features are stronger now, more pronounced. My eyes look tired, like I haven't slept in days. My face is drawn in deep lines of aggression, my hair strewn across my head in different directions. My shirt hangs loosely over my frame, and I realize how much I've lost weight. I hate what I've become. Looking at myself now its obvious how much the demons of my past have haunted me. The shadows that stalk me are forever relentless and my attempts are desperate. I can't avoid them. For the first time in my life, I accept defeat.


I'm sitting on the bed now. I stretch out my hand and pull open the bedside drawer. There, lying down all by itself is my favorite toy. A shiny silver .44 caliber pistol, fully loaded. It looks lethal even just lying down, as if surrounded by some vaguely ominous, yet invisible presence. I'm almost scared. I clasp my trembling hands around its cold, frigid frame and pick it up. It feels much heavier today. I wonder if it is the weight of my conscience, an inner reflex at self redemption. I hold it close to me. Its been my best friend in the most dangerous of situations. Now I'll need it more than ever. I cock it.

The end is almost near. I can feel it now. My heart is pounding fast and beads of perspiration pop out all over me, but I remain calm.There is a certain tranquility, an inner warmth inside me. Its almost comforting, like the journey home after being away for so long. My pain is almost over. Now all I look forward to is eternal nothingness, for memories now hold little comfort. I wonder how the world would see me now. I think of tommorrows headlines, the media buzz, the rumours, the gossip, the lies and the truth. I think of the people who will miss me and those who'll be happy to see me gone. And then I think of my life as a whole. I picture myself many decades back to the little boy who dreamed the impossible to the man who lived that dream. I guess I have seen it all and done it all. It was a good story, and a good life. The price was just too heavy.

I raise the gun slowly and point it to my head. I actually smile as I breath my last. I fear no pain as my finger gently closes around the trigger. Death should come easy, or so I heard.