Red Ribbon Wisdom

It took me days on deciding how I should commit suicide. I even made a list on every means I could imagine then segregated them into two categories: messy and easy. There was a slight concern over the matter of pain , furthermore the sight of blood made me queasy, so I practiced cutting myself with a paring knife, gingerly ignoring my wrist. It was more fun repeatedly running torwwards a wall - to be quite honest, I do not fear death, only of dying.
    Much later my list narrowed dowmn into three choices and I wrote the pros and cons for each.

          TAKE SLEEPING PILLS  JUMP OF A BUILDING  HANGING(myself)
                    *painless                  *u fly b4 u go                  *its classic

    Of course the last two choices were just a lame attempt on humour, but my preferred (and logical) choice posed a problem. Since I wasn't able to procure the sleeping pills when the time came, I used my favorite ribbon instead; vivid red and long enough to serve  its purpose. I held my breath (how frivolous) the second my feet touched nothing but air. I wasn't a good swimmer so it wasn't long when I struggled. I regret I thought of tying my hands as my eyes teared for air, thoughts flashed in my mind one after the other. I prayed first for salvation and as I realized the weight of my mistake, for forgiveness.
    Then a miracle occured. Suddenly there was light and a tall furious-looking man stood before me. The ribbon loossened and I fell on the floor with a thud. My first gulp of air was painful and I began coughing at his feet.
    "Are you my angel?" I gasped.
    The man crouched down to my level. I saw a pair of angry grey eyes before he slapped me so sharply my vision blurred. The tears were liberating. I sobbed. How grateful I was for the sting on my cheek!
    "Tanga. Idiot." the man said.
    Hours later I woke up my eyes hurting, my throat parched, my nose crusty with dirt, and the floor wet with drool and tears. He ws still in the house sitting on a chair beside the dining table with one of her paperbacks on on hand and a half-eaten sandwich on the other. I went out of my bedroom with my face low and headed to the sink across him as surreptitiously as posible. My face was dripping wet when I caught him staring at me.
    Abashed, I muttered, "A...sorry about, what happened a while ago"... My already meek voice trailed off. That couldn't be considered as staring -  why, he was more like glaring at me! Then as I haven't spoken at all, resumed to his reading regarding me with insouciance. I got piqued, but no words came out. Who does he think he is anyway? He didn't look like anyone I met before. I studied him and tried to recall if I seen him. His face, skin color looked passably Asian. However his steel grey eyes and his hair (a shocking red color) were so out of place, it bothered the eyes. Perhaps he wears contacts and dyes the beard and eyebrows? His continued deliberate disregard was beginning to grate my nerves.
    "Listen I appeciate you coming by, but its late and" - I caught sight of the locked door of the house to my right. I remebered that I left it locked all day. .. I don't even remember hearing anyone him come in.
    Slowly he raised his head and gave me a grim smile that sent me running for the door. I fumbled with the bolt, twisted the doorknob, then pulled. It didn't even budge. Shit! It's stuck!
      "You're logic never ceases to amaze me." A chair screeched. "I just ave you're life, why would I harm you?" He was standing now, his head almost reached the ceiling. His obvious disdain and familiarity torwards me ebbed some of my fear. Recollecting that slap he gave me and his unwarrented remark allowed momentary courage through fury.
    "Emphatically and indignantly I said, "You did not save my life."
    "You think?"
    I blinked and suddenly it was dark. Then the light went on. On. Off. On Off. On . Off...I saw him every few seconds smirking in amusement, a good distance away from the light switch, arms crossed against his chest. My knees gave way and I fell on my ass on horror.
    "Not so angelic now, huh?"
    "Who are you?" Did I die after all? My God, the devil has come for me!
    "I'm Socrates, you're shrink." he gave an inclination of the head, a merest hint of a bow. "At your service. Despite what you think otherwise I did just save your life - not that I wanted to but because I have to." he approached an expanse of floor devoid of furniture, knelt down, then began scribbling unfamiliar characters on the floor, using what looked like white chalk. "Frankly I don't feel you deserve to live either, but dabbling at suicide?"...He pointed the chalk at me, shook his head and continued..."well I guess you'd agree that it wasn't a novel idea. But you - you were always one lucky hypocrite. You never ran out of people who loved you."
    There was something differnt in his voice then. I was no longer afraid. I truly felt tha he menat her no harm and I was just confused because he was so familiar with me. I watched in curiousity as he took out a swiss knife, cut his finger, and allowed drops of blood to fall on the characters. I hardly believe my eyes when a mercury-like substance emerged where the blood were. He stood up and it quivered, reflecting a shorter, expanded version of him. "She left you something." he said rather heedlessly, as if to soliloquiz, before he put his cut finger in his mouth and stepped inside the mercury-like puddle. I started when it suddenly sprang up, as if alive, and swallowed him. it settled back to apuddle in seconds. He was gone.
    For a moment, i sat frozen still, with my mouth hanging open. I played the preceding circumstances that led to this in my mind, searching for anything that made sense. Only one thing did. She left you something. The burn in my gut, a feeling I get when I feel like I have to do something, was overwhelming. For the second time, I acted on impulse; I picked myself up and made five quick steps to the puddle.
    Then all went black.