Hail Mary

"You are making a big mistake." The words echoed in my head like a bell. It made my head hurt more than it already was. The hangover was finally kicking in, gnawing, and agonizing. s**t, I shouldn't have drunk more than I could have tolerated. Who was I kidding anyway? Everyone knew I'd drink again, given the chance. The duffle bag in my hand seemed heavier. I allowed myself to rest on the bench outside the train station. The cold wind was crisp and sharp. It could slit my nose in half. Damn it, I should have worn thicker clothes. I pulled out a pack of cigarettes, stuck one between my lips, and lit it before safely tucking the rest back inside the safety of my leather jacket. The heat from the cigarette was finally relieving the cold in my body, but the bitter taste of nicotine made me want to vomit. I swore I'd never drink again. s**t. The station was mostly empty. The winds rattled the traffic signs, metals clanking wearily. I looked at the railroad and the rust that had collected there over the years. As I fidgeted with my train ticket, I became unsure of myself and my decision. Hell, there's no going back from this. As if there's any way to redeem me from the past. As if. From Larnwick, Canterbury to London, my ticket said. I memorized the letters like a mantra, convincing myself that this was it. This was finally it, Cliff. Guess I was the only one so eager to leave this shitty town and its shitty people behind. I had no fond memories of this town, only painful and sickening ones. Mostly sickening if I'm being honest. So why did I stick around? Because I was a dickhead. I didn't leave when I had the chance. Because I thought people deserved a chance, and they proved to me, time and time again, that people are only meant to disappoint you. They will continue to disappoint you until they're f*****g dead. I watched the smoke from my mouth slowly rise and synch into thin air, somehow calming my uneasy nerves. There's something about smoking that I find interesting. You see, as I was growing up, I found its smell and effect ultimately appalling. I can't count on my fingers the many times I've watched and read negative advertisements against smoking and secondhand smoke. But guess what, people still tend to buy them as if their life depended on them. The f**k-up psychology of people always doing what they're asked not to do and how to understand that is beyond me. As for myself, it was about gaining control. It was about knowing that in the future, I'd be dead and it was because of me and the damage I'd inflicted on myself that caused my imminent death. My life's end and the blame should fall on no one but me, myself, and I. My thoughts were halted by the sound of the oncoming train. The chunky piece of heavy metal looked very out of place. It looked enticing for a place so ghastly as this. I readied myself, clutching the bag in my left hand, the other closed to a fist and hidden in my right pocket. The snow crunched as my boots came in contact with it, sinking my feet just enough as I stepped on them on my way to the platform. I heaved a sigh, knowing that this was the last time that I would ever get the chance to glimpse this town. The truth was, no matter how much I hated this place, this place was still home. I was determined not to come back, nonetheless. I had a sinking feeling, though. Something I could not put my finger on. No matter what, it was too late now because the train was finally leaving and it wouldn't stop for anyone, even more so because that anyone is me.