Autonomy * AccidentsI stood at the top of the stairs and pondered the nature of accidents.
They were curious things, accidents were. Nearly flawless as they played the role of an excuse, more skillful than most when gathering pity, and the universal reason why.
Ah, yes. I'm certain your house burned down by accident. I believe that you got lost in the mountains for three weeks by accident. Yes, that pregnancy was accidental. In the same way that it will be pure and simple accident when I fall down these stairs and spatter the walls of my school with bits of the brain it has worked so hard.
Accidents were the greatest, but didn't happen by themselves nearly often enough. I'd been trying to make this one happen for quite some time, but didn't seem to be able to execute it properly. I was nearly positive I'd live to tell the tale, but nearly positive wasn't always enough to give me the gall to make the fall.
This wasn't a commonly-used staircase, and it would take a while for anyone to find me here. Those were the dregs. And the principal would make an inane announcement about how a much-beloved student had befallen a terrible accident!
I would grin a knowing grin with thirty-seven stitches in my skull.
A terrible accident.
The tricky thing about accidents, though, and their beautiful liberating power, is that they're a bit hard to catch a hold of when you know they're coming. Accidents are just tricky like that.
I lean forward, preparing to take the fall. And then the accident passes me by, looking for someone else.
I walk down the steps, instead.
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