|The End of the Road (standard:drama, 1487 words)|
|Author: TJC||Added: Jun 24 2008||Views/Reads: 2320/1239||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Following a tragic loss, a man feels there's only one thing he can do to stop the pain.|
The End of the Road Seth Armstrong's hands were shaking as he took off his uniform. It was probably the last time he'd ever take it off. The past two seasons had been abysmal, winning only nine games against twenty-two losses. Before his life had changed, his career as a major league pitcher had been magical; five twenty win seasons, a couple of World Series titles, and more than likely a future trip to the Baseball Hall of Fame. All distant memories it seemed now. He'd been getting killed and the worst part was the fact he didn't give a damn. He didn't care about a god damn thing anymore. “Think this might be it, Seth?” The reporter asked. Seth hated having to get showered and dressed with clothed baseball writers hanging around. He'd never gotten used to it. Though he wasn't rude to them, he told them all the same thing and tried to be as dull as he could. “We'll see,” was all he said. He was done and he knew it. He was done in more ways than one. He knew that too. As quickly as he could, Seth showered and quickly left the clubhouse. Before getting into his dark green Jaguar he signed some autographs for some kids who'd waited patiently. While he signed he made small talk but didn't even know what he was saying, for his thoughts were on getting home to the privacy of his gated house and on a night two years earlier...... They were late getting home and there was no answer on his wife's cell phone. Seth wasn't one to worry normally, but they had plans that evening to visit his parents who were about to head off on a cruise. Summer was his wife of fifteen years and she had gone to pick up some groceries with Autumn, their twelve year-old daughter. They were his loving seasons, he always said. He almost never went with them anywhere because being recognized as a member of the Diamondbacks made any trip turn into a commotion. Standing outside his front door he once again tried the cell and got Summer's voice mail. Seth was about to call his parents when he saw the police vehicle coming down his street. A ghastly, knowing feeling filled his stomach.... Following the tragic loss of his family in a car accident, Seth let himself drift into depression and anger. Nothing could stop it. His parents, his friends, teammates and fans all tried to show him caring warmth but he pushed them all away with a sullen, distant demeanor. Most of all he blamed himself and turned his anguish into self loathing. So filled with the black cloak of hate- he hadn't even cried about the loss of his family. Instead he'd ranted and raved, broke chairs and furniture, most of which still littered his home, and shut himself off from everyone and anyone. It was his fault, and he was determined never to cry and rather just blame himself and never let himself forget it. Pitching baseball games became a chore rather than his life's passion. Had he not been so focused on winning baseball games he might have been with his family more and he could have gone out in public with them like normal people. Perhaps he'd have been with them on that fateful night and prevented the accident or least have been lucky enough to leave this crappy world with them. He felt so alone, so angry, so lost..... Once he arrived home, Seth watched the sports reports and of course there was a report on the rumored end of the road for the once great Seth Armstrong. He turned it off and went to take a leak in the toilet that he rarely cleaned. Nobody ever came in his house anymore and he saw no reason to clean it. He never even allowed his mom and dad to come over. Seth Armstrong wanted nobody and needed nobody. Fuck the world, he constantly said to himself. Much of his anger and depression was further irritated by a lack of sleep. He never got a good night's sleep. It was the dreams that kept him awake. That horrible night over and over, the police telling him there had been an accident and that he'd best come with them. The sight of his wife and daughter on stretchers, blood stained sheets over their bodies, flashing lights and squelches of radios, and concerned stares over the place. The dreams had been bad enough, but then the visions started. Seth wasn't sure if he'd thought of suicide before the visions appeared, or if thoughts of his own departure came as a result of them. Did it matter? Probably not, he thought. Leaving this world was all he had Click here to read the rest of this story (68 more lines)
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