Purgatory – by SARA CODAIR

Purgatory

By Sara Codair

I’ve been climbing forever; higher and higher, never stopping.

My muscles scream for rest, but my feet keep pounding their funeral beat on the thin steel steps. It’s a song of revenge and repentance, of a life wasted by greed.

When I was a child, I used to chase Elsie Cole up the winding stairs at school. I’d poke her with a ruler and drop spiders in her hair. She’d scream and run and squeal, crying harder with each flight. Often, I’d chase her right up to the roof.

I didn’t stop until the day she threatened to jump.

I gasp. Chemicals slither across my tongue, down my throat and twine their serpentine bodies around my lungs, burning me inside with their vengeful venom.

As a young man, I managed a textile manufacturing facility. We engineered and fabricated military uniforms. I tried to save every penny I…