Behind the Window

The smell was strong enough to be noticed even before she opened the door. She couldn’t place it, it smelled like something rotting or… She walked into her small apartment and glanced around, her new boyfriend followed her in. She was embarrassed at the smell; it seemed to come from everywhere. She saw that her roommate hadn’t taken out the garbage and it was overflowing. That must have been the source of the smell, something rotten in there. She hadn’t been there in several days, preferring to spend her time at her boyfriend’s place. While she quickly collected the trash bag and took it out to the dumpster, he sat on the couch looking around. They hadn’t known each other long, but had spent the last several days together. He was a little uneasy; something just didn’t feel right. That smell, it seemed to drive itself into him. It was trying to tell him something; it didn’t belong there.

The laundry room was a small concrete building just behind her apartment. It had no door and just one washer and dryer. He stood watching her put the laundry into the washer. The uneasy felling was still with him. The smell seemed much worse out here. He looked at the cemetery that was located behind the apartments. Maybe this was the cause of his uneasy feeling? He looked around the yard, commenting jokingly that it smelled like something had died. He glanced at the window of the apartment in back. The uneasy feeling struck him again. She saw the apartment he was looking at, it was the apartment that she had lived in a while back, the place she had almost died in. He stepped towards the window; he could see that the blinds were slightly open. It seemed to draw him towards it, he couldn’t see in at this angle, but he was sure he could from a little closer. A step closer brought him to right outside the window, as he was leaning to look inside… he stopped, the feeling was all over him, the need to look inside. He had to force himself not to look. It made no sense; he turned towards her. She was looking at him with a puzzled look as he stepped away. He glanced back for a final look, the blinds hiding the secret from him, hiding…

His body hung on the nylon rope. In the more then two weeks he had been there his body had become bloated, his skin blackened by the heat of the closed apartment. His tongue had swollen and hung out of his mouth; maggots crawled on it, feasting on his rotted flesh. Snot and drool that had run from his nose and mouth caked his face. His eyes, which had bulged in death, were now sunken. Body fluids had dripped from him onto the carpet; maggots feasted on those as well. The smell had permeated the walls of the tiny apartment and had finally begun to leak out. Outside the window, two lovers chatted, with an uneasy feeling hanging over them.

He had bought the rope when he had first moved in, not really knowing it would play a part in his life. It was to be a new beginning he had thought at the time. As he tied the rope he remembered back. His wife had kicked him out, forcing him to get this place. It was small but all he could really afford at the time. Now without a job and out of money, he couldn’t even afford it anymore. He had a chair he was standing on; he finished tying the rope and put it around his neck. It wasn’t tied like a noose, he didn’t really know how to make one, but he was sure it would work. He had seen it done in the movies, he’d kick the chair away and in a few seconds all his problems would be over. He looked over his apartment one last time as he wondered what his two daughters would think. Then he kicked the chair away.

He dropped on the rope hard. Pain shot up and down his neck as the rope pulled up on his head and the weight of his body pulled down. He thought his head would snap off, he prayed it would, but it didn’t. He realized that the rope wasn’t tightening. He could breath, not much, but enough that he was sure death wouldn’t come as quickly has he had hoped. He tried to scream, but couldn’t; he struggled to get the chair closer, but it was out of reach. His feet dangled inches from the floor. He swung on the end of his rope. He reached up and pulled up with his hands but couldn’t get out of the rope. He dropped down again, the pain increasing. He knew he was going to die here, but it wasn’t going to be quick and easy, it would be long and painful.

He had been hanging for some minutes now, still struggling for breath. He was starting to feel light headed, he knew he wasn’t getting enough air and the rope was cutting the blood to his brain. He hoped he would pass out soon. His death, like his life, would not come easy. He looked around again - everything was fogged and cloudy. He wasn’t sure if he was dead or alive anymore. But the pain was still there, he was sure of that. He saw her then; she was in the corner of the apartment, she appeared to be crawling. He recognized her: it was his neighbor. He had tried to be friends with her and her roommate - maybe he tried too hard. He had watched them both, talked to them both, but they had rejected him. The candy he had put in the mailbox for them still sat there melting in the heat. He had, on occasion, watched them make love to other men and hoped he could be one of them. It was her he had thought of when he masturbated. He had seen her last earlier today with a new guy, smiling and having fun. She hadn’t even looked at him twice. He wondered if she was sleeping with that guy yet? He felt the pain again, it clouded his mind and he looked over to the corner again.

She was still there. He wondered what she was doing in his apartment? Why wasn’t she trying to help him? What was she up to? She was in the corner of his apartment, but it really didn’t look like his apartment; the furniture was different and his things were missing. He thought he might be dreaming but the pain was still there. He struggled again, but that made it worse. He screamed but it came out more of a gurgle. She seemed to not hear or see anything. She was on her hands and knees mumbling things he couldn’t make out. In her hand was a bottle; he couldn’t make out what kind it was. There seemed to be pills of some kind spilled on the floor. Sleeping pills… he knew that’s what they were without being able to see them. She had tried to kill herself in this very apartment. He knew this, even without anyone ever having told him. Her image was fading away. He could feel himself die... it was strange. Like her image he was just fading away.

He felt the presence more then saw it; it seemed to be a man in a black cloak. But he knew this was no man. The cloak was more of a black cloud and the hood shielded the face, for that he was glad. He was sure that he wouldn’t want to see what was hiding behind the hood. The black cloud reached out for him and his pain was gone…

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