Freedom

Freedom

I stood outside the building, staring up at the sky. It was a beautiful clear day with puffs of clouds floating lazily here and there. Today is the day. Today is the day I finally leave. It’s a perfect day for it and a long time coming.

I stood in front of Stanton station; a one story building of glass panels. People were lined up in front of the ticket booth. It was busy, as was to be expected at 7:13 am. In the line, I could see business people, men, and women, in their business suits, checking their watches every so often as the line moved slowly. Some reading the paper, some responding to early morning e-mails, working before they even get to work. Construction workers in stained overalls and jeans, hardhats on, and lunchbox in hand. On their unshaved faces drooping eyes looked forward as they contemplated another day of long manual labour.

I joined this slow-moving queue of people from every hue, tint, and shade. While standing in this line, I looked at the people ahead of me again, and thought to myself that soon I would no longer have to stand in these lines, respond to early morning e-mails, or look at my watch because I’m in a rush. Instead, I soon will be leaving. The thought made sweat form on my brow. It was scary to leave everything behind after all.

As I approached the ticket booth, I looked up at the lady in the booth. She was middle-aged and tired looking. She barely looked at me as I asked for a one-way ticket for the 7:43 train out to the countryside.

She just stared and said, “I need a specific station stop, sir.”

I looked up at the map above her head as the people behind me craned their necks to see what the holdup was. Some looking at their watch again, some huffing and puffing, tapping their foot, or cursing under their breath at the delay. It really didn’t matter where I went. The only thing that mattered was that I left.

So, I picked the Thornberry stop a few stations away. A good a place as any.

“$5.50 please.”

I pulled the money out my wallet, fumbling with the change a little, and handed it to her. When she handed me the ticket, she took a good look at me and squinted a little.

“Are you alright sir?”

“Yes, just nervous,” I responded half smiling.

As I walked away, her eyes followed me a little bit as she frowned, but then she turned to the next passenger looking to pay their fare. The inside of the station was a light brown colour with steel pillars here and there supporting a glass ceiling, which gave a beautiful view of the sky above.

I looked down at my ticket and read: “7:43 to Thornberry, track 4.” I looked around for the stairs to track 4, found them and walked down the underground path. I came up on a half full platform with some of those same self-important people I had seen in line.

Now that I was here on the platform, I found myself even more hesitant about leaving. I mean, was it right to go like this? To leave the people I know behind? Would they even miss me? I would miss my two girls, but I think they would be better off without me. I couldn’t seem to do anything right as their father. The wife and I had been rocky for a while. I mean, we were trying, but was there really a point anymore? Every day was just so hard. This was probably for the best. They would get to start over. My wife could find a new man, one who would bring joy into her life, and the children would have a stepdad. One who would probably be better than I ever was.

I heard the rumble of a train in the distance, then looked down the track. I saw it coming, headlights on even in the day. The train conductor was becoming more visible as the train approached. This wasn’t it though, it wasn’t my train, wasn’t my train to leave on. So, I stepped back slightly, and watched the train as it came zooming into the station, the people on the train a blur behind the glass.

It came to a stop, the doors opened, and I looked at the people on board. Some reading books, or newspapers, some sleeping before their stop, others chatting with friends or co-workers. Then the doors closed, and away it went, picking up speed noisily as it accelerated.

I took a deep breath and thought “Almost time.” A few minutes later, I heard another one coming, saw the same lights, another conductor, another blur of passengers as it pulled in. But it still wasn’t the one, it wasn’t my train to leave on. As it too pulled out, I began to pace back and forth, more sweat on my brow, more nerves. But I was more certain than ever before that I needed to leave.

Then I heard it. Another train, but this one was different. This was it, my train to leave on. My train to freedom. As the lights came closer, crossing the platform entrance, I jumped, elated at its approach. In that last moment, with its headlights filling my vision, brakes screeching to stop before it reached me, my whole life played in my mind.

I regretted trying to leave in that instant. Then all was black.

Prison

My train rumbled toward Stanton Station, hand on the accelerator, mind on the end of shift and going home. Last trip of the day I repeated to myself. Mind wandering slightly, I started to decelerate as I drew close to the station. I’ve done these trips so many times that my hand knows the line backwards. Looking into the station I see a person leaning over, looking down the track. I don’t pay it too much attention because people do it all the time, looking for the train, looking at their watch “thinking why this train is late?”. Which isn’t true today, surprisingly we were on time today, maybe even a minute or two early. As my train crossed the platform entrance my brain kicks up into full alert state as my eyes pick up unusual movement from the gentleman that had leant over the track. As he jumped in front of the train to track level I threw the train into full emergency brake, but it’s too late. There is no stopping this 10ton behemoth from barreling down on this poor soul.

As contact is made, I hear the sickening crunch as metal collides with flesh and bone. The blood splattered all over the windshield and I wanted to look away from this unwanted horror show that I had a front row seat to. However, I was transfixed. Eyes wide and unblinking. The body slide down the train towards the track and the train screeched to a halt as the body was covered by the train. My brain momentarily ground to a halt in the shock of what had just occurred. Completely blank I didn’t know what to do or how I had gotten there. The screams from the passengers brought me back to my senses.

I called my partner at the back of the train voice shaking, “I hit somebody with the train”

“OMG!! Okay okay, I’ll call the control centre and you cut power because I’m still in the tunnel”

“O..Okay” I responded.

As I opened my door onto the seats beside me another thrill of horror. Small children, probably no older than 8 crying their eyes out as their parents held them. They had witnessed this man take his life. No child should have to that, I shouldn’t have had to see that. I walked to the emergency door not looking at the rest of the passengers, but I could guess that some were in shock having seen it from their distant seats, others lost in their music or latest news article had no idea what had happened.

I opened the door and stepped onto the platform to a chaotic scene, of screams, and of the good and bad of humanity. People screaming to call 911 others running to throw up in garbage bins, and some with phones out recording the whole unpleasant scene. I walked to the power panel pushed the power cut button and called the emergency line for control.

“This is the operator I just cut power at Stanton station for an injury at track level” my voice shook at I said it. “Yes, we know, emergency personal are already on the way”

“okay”.

I slide down the wall still holding the phone and tucked my knees into my chest as I contemplated what had just occurred. I took a life today. The horror of it crashed over me and I just realized that I was breathing rapidly, as if I was trying to catch my breath.

“Ma’am are you alright?” a supervisor had arrived. I looked up at him. He was close to retirement by the look of his white hair. His eyes looked down on me wrinkled in concern. I looked down the platform and saw my partner on the platform evacuating the train through the same door I exited. How long had I been sitting there? It didn’t feel long as the horror that just occurred replayed over and over again, seeming to get clearer and more grotesque every time. “Ma’am can you hear me? Are you alright?” the supervisor asked again. I looked up at him and said “yes” just because I had to respond. I didn’t know what to say really. Then I saw the police arrive with another supervisor. They stood on the platform for a minute looking around, when they saw me, they began to walk in my direction. I stood up, dread filling my heart, because I knew they would ask me to put to words what had just occurred. I wasn’t ready though, I couldn’t verbalize it, but I know I had no choice. The supervisor that came with the police nodded to the other supervisor, then suggested that we leave the platform and go to the recovery room. I nodded in response and followed mutely. Once we entered the room the supervisors guided me gently to a chair. I sat down and the police and supervisors took out their notepads.

“I know this is difficult” said the first officer in a kind voice. “But were going to need you to recount the details of what occurred”

I gulped and nodded. Staring straight passed them all not meeting any eyes. I told them how the person had first looked down the track, then as I crossed the threshold of the platform he jumped, and I threw the train into emergency. I described the impact, the crunch of bone colliding with metal the breaking of the flesh releasing a splatter of blood. Every word of this was a knife in my heart as the vivid images implanted themselves deeper in my mind; and the thought that this my fault buried itself deeper too.

“Why didn’t you break when you saw him lean over?” the second officer asked.

I looked at him “people lean over to look down the track all the time. People are always looking to see where the train is. I thought this was no different”

“okay” as he scribbled down my response. “I believe that’s all we need from you for now”

They walked out with the supervisor that had brought them into the station. As they walked out the question that the second officer had asked lingered with me. I should have thrown the train into emergency when I saw him lean over, I should have known, I could have prevented this, he might have survived at least. No, even if I did, I still would have hit him and there is no guarantee he would live, and there is no way I could know. Even so my feelings of guilt swelled.

I returned to the division office with the supervisor that found me on the platform. The next two hours was a flurry of paperwork. It all seemed pointless in the face of what just occurred. On my drive home it replayed over and over and over again. I arrived home and I couldn’t stomach food. Just looking at it made me nauseous. I gave up on eating for today, thinking maybe I would feel better tomorrow, maybe I wouldn’t feel so haunted by my thoughts. I prepared for bed taking far too much time to shower and brush me teeth than was necessary. As I lay in bed attempting to sleep it would replay constantly, but more vividly than before, and I could see it clearly for the first time, his face. A look of elation, eyes closed and smiling a closed mouth smile. In that moment I realized he had attained his freedom, while I, I was in a prison of my own mind never to be released.