Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall,
All the King's horses and all the King's men,
Couldn't put Humpty together again.
Want to know the funny thing about it? It never says that Humpty Dumpty was an egg.
Alfred sighed and took his glasses off, wiping the lenses using his shirt for the hundredth time that night. He still couldn't see through his glasses, it was all just too blurry. The cool breeze that night blew a few strands of his blonde hair out of his face. Alfred wished this moment could last forever. But he knew all too well that nothing lasts forever.
"You don't have to do this, Alfred," came the quiet voice of his brother, Matthew. It nearly threw Alfred off guard that Matthew didn't sound snarky or angry, but almost like he was begging. "Please get down from there Alfred. Arthur and Francis are worried sick."
Alfred chuckled dryly and slipped his glasses back onto his face where they belonged. What a joke. Those two only took care of him for the sake of their late parents. Arthur always believed he was better than Alfred in nearly every way: smarts, charm, manners, popularity, etc. It was often that Alfred found Arthur comparing himself to a king and he no more than a lowly peasant with a knack for getting into trouble. There was only one thing that Alfred could really hold over his head and that was his strength. Even so, at times, Alfred did doubt himself. But Matthew was there for Alfred, cheering on the supposed hero. It was for one very reason, only Matthew was there for Alfred, is the only reason that he is his favorite brother. There was Francis, though he was nicer to him than Arthur ever was, but like Alfred, he favored Matthew above all his brothers. Then everything changed. Matthew made a decision that would forever change the lives of everyone he was close to.
"Alfred, please-"
"Just shut up already!" Alfred snapped, his body swaying in the wind. Despite hardly saying anything to him, Alfred was tired of talking to Matthew for the first time in his life. "I've already made up my mind!"
"You need to see sense!" Matthew cried out.
"See sense? Why should I see sense when you didn't?" Alfred hissed, a mixture of emotions swirling around inside him. He was so close to breaking, but he couldn't do it there, not with hundreds of people watching. "You were the only one who cared for me, understood what I was going through. But then you went and changed everything!"
The wind blew harder, nearly knocking Alfred back onto the roof of the tall building. But Alfred was quick and caught himself. "They blame me for what happened. Arthur doesn't want to listen to what I have to say, he doesn't want to deal with anything that involves me. He doesn't even acknowledge me as his brother anymore! And you know what Francis does about it? Nothing." He placed a shaking hand over his mouth, surprised by what came out. Not his words, no, he meant every bit of it. It was the fact his voice cracked. But Alfred being Alfred lowered his hand, wanting to finish his rant. "Absolutely nothing! He just watches as Arthur neglects me, sipping his stupid French wine and trying not to be noticed!"
There was a moment of silence then Alfred heard Matthew sigh sadly. "I know what I did was unforgivable. I was in a dark place where even you couldn't pull me out. Please, all I ask is that you step down . . . if you go through with this, Alfred, you will only prove to Arthur that you are a fool."
"Of course . . . always the fool and never the hero, right?" Alfred looked down at the people again. He winced and shielded his eyes when powerful beams of light were aimed at him. People could see him, but he could no longer see anyone else. He could only hear their voices. No actual words, but voices jumbled together, letting him know that just about everyone in town was watching him. "Hey Mattie, remember when we were little and Mom would tell us these fairy tales? Like Humpty Dumpty?"
He could just imagine a look of confusion on Matthew's pale face at the sudden change in subject. Eyebrows knitted together, pools of violet looking up at him, a small frown substituting his usual smile. "Yes, I remember. You hated Humpty Dumpty."
"Remember why?" Alfred asked, slowly inching towards the edge.
"I can't say that I do."
"At first it was because they couldn't put Humpty Dumpty back together. Now that I'm standing up here, I realize something else." Alfred took in a shaky breath and slowly let it out. "Humpty Dumpty was an idiot compared to the king. He sat on that wall, questioning his existence. What was his purpose for living? To make the king seem greater? Or to make himself look more like a fool?" Why wouldn't his voice stop cracking? How come he had no control over it?
"Humpty Dumpty fell and neither the king's men nor his horses could put him back together. You think at first it's because of the egg shells and the yoke, but it's not that. Humpty Dumpty was a human. Bones broken, organs ruptured, blood pouring out of every wound, internally and externally. They make him an egg to spare children the true horrors of this world."
"Alfred, stop it right now! Come back home to Francis, Arthur, and me!" Come back home. Those three little words that held so much meaning to him was what finally set Alfred off, what he could finally admit to after all these months.
"I CAN'T GO BACK HOME TO YOU!" Alfred bellowed with gusto, turning on his heel. There was such anger surging through his veins, something he hadn't felt since the incident. "BECAUSE YOU'RE DEAD!"
He was met with nothing. No one stood on the roof, pleading for him to get down. All there was, was a chair keeping the door to the roof shut. Over the blood pounding in his head and the wind rushing past his ears, he could hear beating on the door. The sudden feeling of loneliness flushed out the anger and Alfred crumpled to the ground, hands clutching his chest where just beyond the skin, muscles, and bones, lay his aching heart. His throat clenched up, making it all the much harder to breathe. His vision worsened and Alfred finally admitted the problem wasn't his glasses. He was crying. How could he not cry? Months ago, Matthew died from a self-inflicted shot to the head. Alfred was about to join Matthew, wherever he was. Heaven, Hell, or Purgatory, it didn't matter. All he wanted was to be with the one person who made him feel important, who gave him a reason to wake up in the morning with a goofy smile on his face and carry on through the day. To be honest, Alfred was scared but he couldn't let fear stand in the way.
On the verge of hyperventilating, Alfred forced himself to calm down. He took in slow, deep breaths through his mouth then breathed out through his nose. Taking off his glasses and setting them beside him, he wiped away the tears with the back of his hand. He sat on the ledge, swinging his legs over the edge. This was it. It was time. Alfred couldn't back out now, he needed to show Arthur and Francis what they did was wrong. If this was the only way to do it, then let it be. When Alfred needed his family the most, they pushed him away. They ignored him. They pushed him onto the brink of insanity.
"Sitting up here alone, talking to a ghost. I think I really am insane," Alfred hummed.
The beating on the door suddenly becoming more frequent and louder; whoever was on the other side sounded pretty desperate to get on the roof. It didn't surprise Alfred when the chair gave way and the door slammed open. He didn't want to see who it was, afraid that if he looked back, he wouldn't want to jump anymore. So Alfred did the first thing that came to mind. He fell off the side of the building.
He closed his eyes, imagining the wind whipping around him were hands guiding him down to the ground. Alfred felt nothing but peace. What he did was the right thing. They will finally understand what they did was wrong. Hopefully Arthur will no longer be the arrogant, cruel king he was but finally know what it's like to be the peasant. Maybe Francis will even stand up and draw the line when things get bad.
"ALFRED!"Someone screamed into the black night above Alfred. It was the throatiest, heart stopping, gut wrenching scream that Alfred ever heard.
Realization swept over him and Alfred's eyes snapped open. That was Arthur. Arthur's voice. Arthur was the one who screamed for him. He was the one pounding on the door. There was so much regret in his voice; it nearly brought tears to Alfred's eyes. He cared . . . He cared! The inner peace that Alfred felt just a moment ago shattered into a million pieces. He was being consumed by guilt and fear and was drowning in shame. How could he do this? He just condemned his brothers to a life knowing they were the reasons that led Alfred to suicide. Oh god, what was he thinking?
The ground was getting closer and closer. As cliché as it may sound, it seemed like the fall would never end. In reality, the fall was just a couple of seconds. It wasn't long before Alfred's body made contact with the cold, filthy sidewalk. The screaming all around him was unbearable. If the pain that was surging throughout his body wasn't so excruciating, he would have at least attempted to plug his ears. Alfred could feel his warm blood seep out of various lacerations all over his body. No doubt his limbs were broken and twisted in ways that wasn't possible. Slowly, the pain was growing numb, Alfred's vision darkened.
How could Alfred be such a fool? Yes, Alfred was a fool. Arthur was right all along. Alfred was no hero. All he did was make things worse and continuously make a fool out of himself. This was the biggest slip up Alfred had ever done in his life.
A ghost of a smile appeared on Alfred's bloody lips. His eyelids closed shut, pushing out the last of his tears his breathing growing fainter. "Humpty Dumpty was a fool . . . for giving up something as precious . . . as a life."
With the last of his breath, Alfred chuckled as best as he could. The faint smile fell from his face and his entire body relaxed. Medics and police officers ran up to the body. They all knew who he was. It was impossible for anyone in their town not to know who he was. The family of Matthew was in the papers and news for weeks after the suicide. Nearly everyone in town gave them their condolences; including a few of the officials standing around Alfred's mangled body.
One medic kneeled beside the young man and pressed two fingers against Alfred's neck, hoping for a miracle. There was no pulse. He sighed and checked his watch.
"Alfred Jones. Time of death: 10:10 pm."
Hiya, is'a me, Gabby!
This was a fanfiction I entered in a contest that did very well actually. I've been debating whether or not to post this here and I decided to go through with it.
For those of you who read my Paper Planes story, sorry for the long break! I'm a horrible human being, I know, but I will have the next chapter up by this weekend, I cross my heart and hope to die. So just hang in there and don't hate me completely . . .
Toodles~