Prabh had never hiked in his life, and it was painfully obvious. His breath came in ragged gasps, and his legs burned after more than two hours of walking. Sweat dripped down his face, and his shirt clung to his back. To make matters worse, he hadn't brought any water or food. When he made the plan, it seemed logical. After all, what need was there for water and food if he was going to die soon anyway? They would be just extra baggage. But now, he regretted that decision. Maybe dying thirsty and hungry wasn't optimal.
"Fucking hell," he muttered between laboured breaths.
There was no point in regretting it now. He would drink from the lake when he reached it. But even finding the lake was proving to be difficult, especially with no network. He still had an offline map of the area, and up until now, it seemed usable with the help of his compass. Maybe the map was outdated because there was supposed to be a lake here instead of a small house with Canadian flags.
He looked at the house and then back at his phone. Sure enough, there was no house on the map. The house looked quite old and rundown, the paint peeling off the wooden walls. It was also quite high, with a ladder lying alongside one wall, presumably for climbing up. He looked around and then walked to the other side of the house. There was no trail going further. The trail led directly to the house and ended there.
The area around the house was littered with empty beer bottles, suggesting it might be a popular spot for skiers in winter. He nearly tripped on a glass bottle but managed to grab a branch nearby and steady himself, cursing.
"And they blame us immigrants for littering."
He looked at his phone, still no network.
"Fuck you, Freedom!"
Prabh was already annoyed at this point, so he kicked the house and walked back to the junction. He tried to find the trail to the lake, slowly walking while following the map with the compass. Now, directly in front of him, was land covered with bushes that came up to his chest. That couldn't be right. He looked back at the map, and it showed a cleared area with no trees. Now it was getting absurd. Where was the lake?
As he looked around, he suddenly caught a glint of metal. Squinting, he saw a small board further down the bush-covered trail, confirming that this was at least the right way. It had just been neglected to the point of being overgrown. Prabh stared at the board, then at the bushes, thinking. He cursed loudly, made up his mind, and started walking through the bushes.
Walking through the bushes proved to be not that hard. They were not too dense, and they didn't itch, so it was fine except when a bush brushed against his face or neck. When something touched his neck the first time, he jumped and let out a scream. The bigger problem, however, was that it had rained yesterday, and the bushes hid all the small puddles of water. Prabh's shoes were not waterproof—another mistake—and soon enough, his feet were soaked. As he walked, his feet made a wet squelching sound, which annoyed him more than the wetness itself.
After fifteen minutes of trudging through those wet bushes, he finally emerged onto dry land, with the loud sound of flowing water coming from his right. He followed the sound and soon found himself standing in front of the lake.
"Finally, the west lake."
On his right was a small metal bridge, under which water flowed from the lake to a stream downhill. He crossed the bridge and found a small clearing on the lake-shore directly under the sun. The first thing he did was gulp down some water. It was ice-cold and felt like nectar after walking in such heat.
He sat down on the ground, removed his soaked shoes and socks, and twisted them to wring out the water. After that, he took off his cheap earplugs and stared at the lake for a while. Now came the hard part. Grimacing, he fished out the vape e-liquid and a knife from his pocket. The knife was a small kitchen knife with an orange handle, and the liquid bottle was a transparent bottle with a label and water-like clear liquid. It was a 120 ml bottle, with 20mg/ml nicotine concentration, a grand total of 2.4 g of nicotine. The lethal dose was believed to be 0.5 g, so this would get the job done. He had also taken pills to prevent vomiting half an hour ago. He then copied his suicide note from his phone's notes app and pasted it into a message to Baj. He didn't press send yet. He would do that after he drank it, just in case he chickened out.
"Ah! No point in delaying, let's get it over with."
Prabh's hand trembled as he lifted the bottle. Sunlight passing through the clear liquid cast an eerie shadow on him. Taking a deep breath, he twisted the cap, revealing the seal underneath. With his other hand, Prabh grabbed the knife. The knife was slick in his hand from sweat as he brought the sharp end under the seal and tried to pry it off. The seal was tight. He strained his muscles, and with a pop, the seal flew off, sending a small spray of liquid into the air. The liquid splashed onto his hands and clothes, filling the air with the smell of green apples. He brought his hand to his face and licked the liquid from it. He immediately spat it out, coughing violently, causing a few more drops to spill.
Steadying himself, he took a deep breath. As he stared at the lake, his mind wandered to the past, to all the happy memories he had with his friends and family. Once again, he wondered if there was no other way. He angrily pushed those thoughts from his mind. If there was, he wouldn't be sitting here. Nothing mattered anymore, so why bother living? He was going to suffer anyway. No point in rethinking the same things he had already considered thousands of times. Closing his eyes, he brought the bottle to his lips and drained it in one gulp. The taste stung his throat, his eyes watering as he gasped for air. His hands were suddenly steady. He picked up his phone and pressed send.
Now he waited. Nothing happened for a minute. Then suddenly, his stomach started hurting as if someone had driven a knife through it. He cried out and clutched his belly. The pain was so intense he thought he would pass out. He had a strong urge to vomit but couldn't, probably because of the pills. He rolled over onto the bank, moaning. His vision started to darken, sounds began to fade, and finally, he was no more.