The Fall
Most of our days are habitual, we perform the same routine that is required of us and our day ends as soon as it begins. It would not be unfair to state that most days of our lives are unremarkable. Due to the fact that I’m living in the country that borderline the equator, most of my days are unremarkably hot.
Late 2010, I woke up quarter past morning, stumbled and fumbled my way out to brunch. As I walked under the scorching hot sun, I realised I left my wallet in the drawer. Swearing under my breath, I turned back to retrieve it, not realising what I almost missed had I not forgotten my wallet on that fateful day.
Even as I was climbing the steep hill from my allocated parking spot, I thought to myself: “This is what it feels like to be a rotisserie chicken.” As I slouched my way up the hill and subsequently the stairs, I entertained the thought of fasting, chuckled a little and braced myself for glorious heat of the Malaysian weather.
Next, the unexpected happened.
If the sounds I heard while in the descending elevator weren’t preceded by a loud terrifying scream, I would’ve thought that a vase had fallen from six levels above. As the elevators door opened, I walked out and there was silence, and nothing else. I noticed fragment of roof tiles on the ground as I inched closer to the source of the noise, and still there was only the sound of silence. The beat of my heart increased accompanied by adrenaline kicking in; something was amiss. I shifted my focus a little further up, and lo and behold, before me, was a body.
On that unremarkable hot day, I was first on the scene of a suicide.
