Words Unspoken

April 21, 2009
By [ana]stasia! BRONZE, Bethel, Alaska
[ana]stasia! BRONZE, Bethel, Alaska
3 articles 0 photos 2 comments

Lets start off by saying I could have done something when this all started. It happened about three weeks ago and only three people know his story. One of them should be in jail, another one should have died instead of him and me, I could have stopped this from happening, but I was high and I could have cared less.

Surprisingly enough, he was walking home from work, my dad that is. Jayson lazily reached into his empty pockets to see if he had enough money to get his marijuana. They were both empty and, just the iPod he stole from my aunt and the pink ear buds connected to it. He didn’t even waste time on the back pockets, because Jayson already knew they were going to be empty as well. He needed money and he needed it fast. That was all was thinking about. Not me, not the money we wouldn’t have for about a week, not his job, not the music he was listening to, and more importantly not the risk of getting mugged coming down this alley way…again.

The streets were empty, the summer’s Monday night was young and money and drugs were in need. No cars, no people, and just the sound of a lonely man’s voice filled that silence. He was singing Photograph by Def Leppard. It was one of his favorite songs, by one of his favorite bands. But Jayson stopped for a moment to play the air guitar for the first solo. He looked like a complete idiot; and closed his eyes tried to get down on his knees but the wet asphalt was too much for the heavyset man. He quickly got up, the drugs was still on his mind, he needed a way to feed his addiction, a way to get high, a way feel good, a way to forget the crappy life style he had and forced on me.

He remembered Stephen’s rainy day piggy bank, my rainy day piggy bank. Jayson could get the money from there, but does he really want to?

“ I get paid next week, it won’t be much, and I’ll replace it right away” Jayson said to himself.

After talking having the conversation alone he carried on with his beautiful singing. The beginning was over, and as every second passed it was getting closer and closer to the middle. ”Photograph- I don’t need your. Photograph- I don’t want your. I’ve got something, something to your hair! Dun na, na, na, na OHHHHHHHHHHH!” were the words that came out of his mouth.

A few minutes passed, the silence began once more, the song was over and this one he didn’t know. It was some new hot band, apparently. He only knew this because Ursula was always talking about it and trying to sing, and be like Jayson. Sure he didn’t know it but he went with it and pretended to love it, the kind of love Ursula would have showed. Jayson didn’t feel like wasting his time on this song, he wasn’t into this type of music and he didn’t think he ever would be.
“Classic rock and hard rock are more original, they never make music like they used to” were the thoughts that now raged inside his mind. The man was mad, about the music and he was stuck arguing to himself. “How sad is this, do I really have nothing better to do, I’d better stop, before this becomes a problem.” So he immediately stopped so he was left with nothing but silence yet again.
Right away he remembered he had to get the money to buy the marijuana, but how was he going to get home so quick, he had to be like a twenty-minute walk. How was he going to explain to me, “oh I needed your rainy day money so I could get weed, its okay its not for you, you don’t smoke right?” Of course I wasn’t going to be sleeping, it wasn’t even ten o’ clock yet, I’m 15 years old and I smoke weed, of course I’m not going to be sleeping, that’s too early, the buzz would keep me up.
Jayson came home, out of breath and not long enough he came running into the kitchen. He didn’t even stop to say “Hi” or ask about school, if I was hungry or if I have eaten yet. He never does, I don’t think I ever will either. We don’t talk to like we are two enemies, pitted against each other, or like we don’t know one another just two complete strangers who give a friendly smile every now and then. Its like I’m not even his son, it feels like I’m just some piece of furniture that’s in the way of his pathetic life.
His disgusting grease covered arm reaches for the jar. I watched him, he was shaking and he could barely hold the jar. I knew he exactly what he was going to do. The ugly smile on his face, gives it all away, and just as fast as he came in, he leaves, no good bye, no I’ll be back and no, “thanks kid for the drugs you just bought me.”
I got off of the sticky, spluge covered couch and went over to the window, to watch him run to his drug dealer who was just outside of our building. I wasn’t so sure about his name, so I called him Wolfgang. I thought it suited him; he looked like one of those guys who had a high self-esteem and the black leather trench coat, warn out combat boots and drugs only made it even better.
Jayson and I weren’t ready for the surprise that was about to happen. Apparently Wolfgang was sick of this too, Jayson knew he owed him money and the $50 he stole from me wasn’t enough. I thought they were just going to argue about the same things, make a deal and a payment that was best for both of them. The deal wasn’t that great on dad, and only better for Wolfgang. Jayson need $50 more big ones, I knew it. Just as he was about to turn around Wolfgang pulled out his silver, prepared and old hand gun. It was a .45 and was passed given to him from his dad. He shoots him twice on the back and once in the head and dad falls down on the ground. His body, now lifeless lies down on the ground on a dark red pool of blood surrounding him.
“NOOOOOOO!!” I screamed in pain. “Why, why did that happen, why would he do that?”
He was just standing there laughing, and threw the drugs on his back and ran off with the money. Fast enough for him to think that no was watching him and witnessed the murder.
I wondered if I should call the cops at first, but I didn’t, that was a huge mistake. Calling Aunt Ursula was just going to make matters worse. I couldn’t handle her cries of pain; it just made me want to cry even more.
“Where is he? Did you call the pigs yet?” she freezes up, long enough for her to cry, and lets me talk for once.
“No I didn’t, call them for me” I managed to stuttered.
“You’re gonna be fine right, I could be there in like 15 minutes, hey kid, don’t worry about it.”
“I’ll find a way to manage, don’t I always?”
She hangs up before I could add another thing: “I don’t want/need you to come Ursula,” I said into the phone.
I guess I could I have used her; I need a shoulder to cry on and to know I wasn’t alone in the world and all of this wasn’t my fault. I knew I could have prevented this, I should have. One life could have been saved by simple words, but those were words unspoken and words I can’t say to him again.

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