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Departures (Chapter 1)
🕑 Added 2025-02-13 14:00:06 +0000 UTCThis was the end. Rafael had known that much for months, and maybe even years, on the rare occasions he had the courage to be honest with himself. But now he truly couldn’t put it off any longer. Either he had to go out on his own terms, today, ideally with as little discomfort as possible, or else a rougher finale was going to come find him in the form of loan sharks, crooked cops, and the vengeful dealers who’d already threatened him with a litany of excruciating torments if Rafael’s insurmountable debts weren’t paid immediately. Yet after years of drug use, burning away every dollar he had, cutting all ties with family, and scaring off even his most unreliable friends, there was literally no other recourse for him here but permanent surrender. Rafael’s body was just as broken as his bank account, and the walls were closing in fast. His barely-running rust bucket of a car was the only possession left to his name, and currently, he was using it to drive straight to the city’s eastside bridge so he could take a quick-and-painless plummet off the side into those icy waters far below.
Stumbling out of the vehicle and peering over the railing, Rafael let out a defeated sigh. He never “wanted” things to go this way, but he’d also lived fast and indulgently, exactly the way he wished: a nuclear ember, ready to combust or fizzle out at any moment. There were no regrets. Or at least Rafael preferred to believe so. But as he pulled himself over the railing and eyed the dizzying death plunge that awaited him, he simply couldn’t make himself take that final step. Logically, he knew that euthanasia was his best bet. There weren’t any hiding places left for him; even if he skipped town on fumes, the many people who had him on their shit list now would hound him no matter where he ran, and then they’d punish him for his poor financial decisions with every creative bone-snapping method they could devise, until he was begging for the mercy of the grave. It was either go out smoothly by his own hand, or drag this out and infinitely regret it later. Still, whether due to flat-out cowardice or some idiotic deeply-buried notion that he might yet escape from this addictive hell and begin life anew, Rafael just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t jump.
Feeling more trapped than ever, and still clinging to the railing, that was when Rafael looked back at the bridge’s closest end, where he was immediately enraptured by a billboard he’d never noticed there before. “Biggest Hearts” Palliative Care was advertised in bold red, alongside its logo of a chibi-cutesy grim reaper holding a ray gun, and a humongous but technically smaller than life-size visage of the company’s creator, Dr. Emma Torres. Even Rafael, often lost in his own substance-abusive world, knew exactly who she was.
World-famous by now for her miraculous invention and exclusive patenting of a size-altering growth apparatus, the Harvard-educated scientist had used this extraordinary technology not to solve the globe’s hunger crisis, but to create a comfortable end-of-life experience for terminally ill patients at the gargantuan hands of Emma herself and her specialized team of three-hundred-foot-tall nurses. While Rafael wasn’t clear on exactly how the task was performed, Biggest Hearts seemingly had a reputation for making one’s inevitable demise as pleasant and pain-free as possible. At once, he knew where he had to go. And just in case the prospect of this company’s professional euthanasia wasn’t already more attractive than a terrifying jump off a bridge, the ingenious Hispanic giantess’s dazzling smile on that billboard somehow made him trust her implicitly. Rafael knew he couldn’t delay. Leaping back in his car and jotting down the address, he drove off to meet his hopefully-better end.
Two hours later, without a drop of gas left in the car’s tank, Rafael pulled up to the appropriately uber-palatial headquarters of Biggest Hearts Palliative Care. In order to accommodate its thirty-story-high staff, the place was large enough to make the Boeing factory look like a dollhouse. Rafael cleaned himself up as best as he could, not wanting to be turned away from this fatal last-ditch effort, even knowing that he certainly had the appearance of a shattered soul on the last day of his life. He just had to pray that Biggest Hearts’ allegedly angelic mercy would extend to him as well, no matter how low he’d fallen.
After another hour spent in the vast waiting room, surrounded by coughing cancer patients and half-expecting his dealers to burst in the side-door at any second to get him, Rafael’s turn for a consult was called up. It was surreal to step into the gigantic gloved palm of a redheaded white-clad nurse, who smiled as she stood up to her full three-hundred-foot maximum and carried him down the spacious hall. Even though Rafael had seen these giant women on the news, to actually behold one of Emma Torres’ towering elites in person and perch in her powerful hand made for a shocking penultimate experience in his life. Relative to her staggering superhuman scope, he was barely an inch and a half tall.
Yet as startling a phenomenon as it was for him just being gently ferried along in a titanic female stranger’s clutches, it was nothing next to the astonishment Rafael felt as they arrived in the grandiose sterile-colored office for his impromptu appointment. The door opened, and his eyes popped and jaw hung when none other than Dr. Emma Torres herself sat behind a building-sized desk. The nurse let him disembark onto the surface, said a cheerful goodbye, and then left Rafael in the humbling humongous presence of no less than one of the smartest most-famous people on the planet. Not to mention, as the comparatively-little man could now personally confirm, she was also one of the most beautiful too – with her sparkling gaze, dark flowing locks, dusky Latina complexion, a full-lipped smile to match that lovely billboard, and a curvy-toned figure garbed in a jet-black blazer and thigh-complimentary pants which gave her the appearance of a smartly-dressed goddess on Earth. Rafael almost didn’t feel worthy to share her mighty larger-than-life presence.
“Welcome to Biggest Hearts! My name is Dr. Torres. And you must be Rafael, yes?” Emma affably greeted, as if anyone who ever entered this room wouldn’t already know who she was. Her tone was so invitingly warm that it almost made Rafael feel like he was being hosted for a fancy meal, rather than seeking to be mercy-killed.
“Y-Yes, ma’am, that’s me,” Rafael gulped, uncertain if he should start begging on his hands and knees. He didn’t know much about the giantess’s prosperous end-of-life operation, but he guessed it wasn’t traditionally done free of charge, as his would have to be.
“Don’t be nervous, now. You look so tired. Like you’ve been through a lot lately, with nowhere else to turn. But there’s no need to be upset. Not anymore. Everything will be over soon enough,” Emma said. Rather pathetically, this was the most compassionate thing anyone had said to Rafael in a long time – even coming from a colossal woman who was apparently fine with slaughtering a person she’d just met, voluntarily or not.
“Thank you, um, Doctor. I… y-yeah… I just don’t have any other choice. T-This is my best chance. You know, to…” Rafael meagerly agreed, though he was too existentially overwhelmed to finish that sentence.
“I understand. You don’t have to explain,” Emma said, much to the little thing’s relief. “Did anyone else explain the options available to you, before you came in today?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Well, then, we’ll just get that part taken care of first, so you can decide which type of care is right for you,” she continued, steepling her fingers together and leaning further across the desk, until her pretty countenance loomed imposingly overhead of Rafael. “Here at Biggest Hearts, we believe in the dignity and sanctity of life, especially at its end. My personal philosophy behind starting this company, in fact, was to help palliative care meet its most humane potential. I believe that something is taken away, both from the recipient and caregiver, when deadly chemicals or other unnatural means are used to euthanize someone. Here, we value that more intimate and valuable human connection, right up to the end and beyond. That’s why I, and all the rest of my staff, live at this size, so that we can be fully in control of the process, and make it not only painless for you, but also lovingly personal. The way everyone deserves. So with that in mind, you have a variety of ways in which I can make all your worries and problems go away forever. I can take care of you in my hand, either in a closed fist, or even just between two fingers. I can place you between my breasts, and solve things there quickly, before you even feel it. Just a squeeze is all it takes. I can sit on you, with the same result. I can eat you, and swallow you whole, or chew you right up. I can even step on you, under my shoe, or under my bare foot – with your body pressed beneath my heel, flat along my sole, or your head stuck between my toes. Let’s see, that’ll about cover our most traditional choices. Now, as for payment-”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. But I don’t have any money,” Rafael nervously interrupted. He knew that Dr. Torres might kick him out of the building in annoyance for the presumption of coming in here without a cent, but he still had to try. Despite her unusual approach to humanitarian aid, the giantess seemed to have a good heart. Surely she could make an exception just this once. Prayerfully clasping his hands, he sunk to his knees before the leviathan Latina. “Please. Just… p-please. I’m begging you to help me, Doctor. I’ll take w-whatever you’re willing to give me. Right here, r-right now. I just have to do this today. If I leave here, if I t-try to go home again, they’ll find me… t-they’ll-”
“You don’t have to say anymore,” Emma declared. Surprisingly, the three-hundred-foot-tall woman didn’t appear very bothered by Rafael’s pitiful admission. There was no eye-rolling anger or scowling disgust at him for having wasted her time. On the contrary, by a glimmer in her eye and the curve of her serene smirk, Rafael could’ve sworn she was actually put into a better mood by this news, though it was hard to guess why. “Granted, this isn’t the way we normally do things here. This is still a business, after all, and we do have expenses. Still, I promised myself when I started Biggest Hearts that I’d never forget our founding message, which is why from time to time, I take on pro bono cases, such as yours. For nothing. How does that sound?”
