Tower

It had been a weird feeling all night. A nagging sensation that this wasn’t enough. But what wasn’t?

Leaving the mindless hum of the bar she wandered aimlessly out of the quad, and headed towards Alexander Square. Directionless, maybe, but with the knowledge that with a campus of this size and shape, to keep walking would eventually bring you back to your starting point. The beginning of a circle, she thought, paradoxically. Just like tonight. You try, you fail and you try again. A circle which tonight, hopefully, would finally be broken.  As she strolled, almost happily up the spine she spotted a map. Glancing to her right, however she saw the map was useless. There it was. Towering a good four stores above any other building.

And of course- it was locked. She’d heard about this, even looked it up on the accommodation website. Universities are known for being high stress environments, often causing students to make rash decisions. Rash- what a stupid word. This was the most sensible decision she’d ever made. Back in London, surrounded by everyone it would always be complicated. Here she was anonymous. Just another student number on another library card.

Sitting outside the door, she wondered how to go about getting in. After all it had taken to finally make this choice, a glass door was not going to stand in the way. Before any solid ideas had formed someone approached, who was he? She couldn’t decide if they’d met before...

“You alright out there mate?” He asked looking at her, curled up on the floor.

“Er, yeah, no worries, my, er friend lives here, but I couldn’t get in”

“Well d’you wanna wait inside? It’s cold out here” Her heart leapt-

 “yeah, cheers!”

“So where you living?” He was a chatty one. Still it wouldn’t hurt to make conversation. He had let her in after all. She could’ve been sitting out there for a while yet.

“Oh, Bowland Main, right above the bar!” That’s right, keep it light hearted. Show willingness, but not interest.

“Ah, well you’re in Bowland Tower now!” Just those two words sent a thrill down her spine; “where everyone tops themselves” he finished with a laugh. Careful now, think-

“Really? Oh yeah I think I read about that”

“Anyway, I’m off now, this is my floor. See ya!” Watching him walk towards the door to C Flat she exhaled forcefully. That was the joy of this place. It didn’t matter. She could’ve told him she was going to jump off herself and he’d probably have laughed, and gone home for his tea. He wasn’t malicious, just not concerned for her. Any why should he be? Everyone looked out for themselves here, it was just the way it was. Like the real world.

Climbing higher and higher, it became apparent that the end had to be close.  Finally she saw it. The view. It really was fucking high. For someone who gets vertigo on a flight of stairs it should have crumbled her but instead all she felt was resolve. Finality. Opened the outer door and walked though. There were no lights on here there hasn’t been any for the past few storeys. They probably didn’t let anyone live this far up anymore. Not after the last time. When was it? 1990, of course. Despite however many others had taken this journey, with her intentions in mind, tonight she felt all alone. I’d like to tell you she felt their ‘spirits’ or something, up there on the 8^th, 9^th or even 10^th floor. But all she felt was the pressing silence.

The inner door was locked. Of course it was. Why did she not think of this before? Without pausing she strode, now purposefully over to the window. Barred and locked. Brilliant. The wave of disappointment was crushing. Others will tell you that under it all she felt some relief. A touch of sorrow that it had got this far, but I will tell you the truth.

All she felt that night is sickening regret. Not regret at what could have been, but regret at what should have been.

Descending the stairs, almost weak at the knees, she headed with a sigh, back to the bar. The same people, the same chat, welcomed her. Nothing had changed here. The half an hour interim had passed in a merry bubble for these people, perhaps marked by another drink, or a dance. Sinking into a sofa with a forced smile, she embraced the mindless hum. This was it now. This was enough, it had to be. She would never seek out Bowland Tower again.