Love For Hire

Nicholas could feel the world move. He’d been on a binge for days. Booze and rugs. He sat on the foot of the bed naked. He opened his mouth as the prostitute he had been killing time with placed the drug on his tongue. It dissolved immediately, and then she kissed his mouth. Nicholas lay back, but it felt like he was floating as he lay back on the bed, the woman kissing her way down his body until her mouth wrapped around his cock.

He closed his eyes and lost himself to the altered state of mind. If he was lucky, he would die right now at this moment. He’d been popping far more of his medication than he should, mixing it with street drugs and copious amounts of hard liquor. He kept hoping he’d overdose. That he would have a bad reaction and just stop his heart, but despite what he took or what he mixed it with, he was still here.

He kept waking up.

Why… oh, why… would not God just let him die?

Nicholas faded in and out of reality. He had no concept of the passage of time. He could not tell anymore what time of day it was or if he was even alone. He did not feel the woman anymore, and his buzz was fading. So, he got onto his unsteady feet and found his way to the washroom. He reached around the counter, feeling for his pill bottles. He did not know which one he had grabbed, but he removed the lid and tipped his head back to dump the pills into his mouth, but nothing came.

Empty.

He threw the bottle to the floor and opened another, tipping his head back to pour the pills in his mouth.

Empty.

He opened one after the next and always got the same result.

Empty.

across the counter, knocking everything to the floor. He was out of drugs. So much for dying in a chemical haze. He stood in the washroom. His hands braced on the counter as he

fist into the mirror and heard it shatter. His hand hurt, and he knew he had cut himself. He felt around until he found a large shard of glass. He held it in his palm and then sat down on the

to the flesh, and cut as deep as he could. The pain was bittersweet. He transferred the glass from one hand to the other and cut his other wrist, then dropped the glass. He could feel himself grow weak as the blood left his body; he felt peace. The pain was a sweet release. His arms dropped to his

He felt his friend grab clothes applying pressure to his wrists, doing his best to

Octavius away. He did not want to be saved. “No. Let me die,” he barely managed, and then he slumped over and lost

***

up to the palace, there was an ambulance, two cop cars, a fire truck and a personal vehicle that was not one of theirs. Kinsley could see the concern on Naya’s face. They got out of the car and ran inside. Naya rushed to her husband,

covering her mouth with her hand. “Dr.

of the first responders were standing around talking. They waited in the parlour for what felt like an eternity. Kinsley said nothing, only listening to Samuel

of relief spread through the room. “He cut fairly deep this time. I had to repair some of

his head. “If he goes to the hospital for trying to kill himself, the press will have

leave now. I will return in a few days to see how he is doing. He needs rest,” they thanked the doctor for making a house call and then the staff showed

with him?” Kinsley asked as she

Naya said

way. She opened the door to his room and went inside to find Octavius coming out of the washroom with a trash bag.

to see you.