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“Watch what you’re doing!” Oliver glared over at the drivers seat, which was occupied by Elliot. Elliot was fairly new to driving, not because he was young, but because he had not gotten his license until he was 21 because he could not afford the insurance.
“Watch what you’re doing!” Elliot jokingly mocked Oliver and spat in his direction, causing Oliver to drop his Coke all over the messy floorboard.
“Nice going moron. I aint cleaning that up.” He then dropped the cup on the floorboard and crushed it with his Nikes. In obvious blatant disregard for Elliot’s brand new Camaro.
“Dude! Clean that up before I pull this car over and force you to clean it up with your tongue.” The look on his face was that of pure seriousness.
“Chill bro.... Just messin’ around.” Oliver slowly bent over to pick the cup up, and wipe the spilled drink up off the upholstery. “No need to get so bent out of shape over it, lord.”
“I spent a months pay JUST on the down payment for this car. I’ll be working the next 7 years to pay this baby off. I would rather it stay in good shape instead of how you leave your old mustang. What is it? An 69’? I bet it cost you 2 grand, max. And don’t even get me started on the interior.” Elliot went on about the shape of Oliver’s car. This is why he decided not to drive in his car.
“Why you always be hatin’ on me? Hmph.” He looked out the window and brooded. Just then he looked into the side view mirror and saw an oncoming four door truck speeding towards them with no sign of a driver. “DUDE! Get out of the way! There’s a truck!”
“What?” Elliot leaned to look in the mirror, but it was too late. There was a blood curling screech, and a slam that made their intestines crawl all the way up to their mouths. Their faces were thrown into the inflated airbags as the car learched forward and into the fire lane of the highway.
The car came to a crashing stop as it ran into a large oak tree, shaking branches onto the top of the car. Causing even more damage to the already crushed car.
Elliot turned his bloodied head slowly over to see if Oliver was ok. He seemed to be unconscious, his forehead obviously slashed open and bleeding profusely all over the once white airbags. The world was spinning, and Elliot didn’t know what to do, or think. In fact he didn’t think. There was so much adrenaline rushing through his veins that he was in an inhuman state. He ripped his bloodied seatbelt from his body and slashed at the airbag to release himself from its restraint. the door slammed and he ran in front of the tree, around to the other side of the car to get his life long friend out of the car.
Elliot threw the half crushed door open and Oliver’s limp body fell slightly sideways trying to fall out of the seat. Through blood, sweat, and tears, Elliot smacked Oliver’s face. Trying, just trying, to get any sort of response. “Oliver! Oliver! Oliver!” Elliot screamed. Still no response from his friend.
Elliot’s mental state snapped. He broke down to his knees sobbing, not knowing what was going on and why. How could a simple drive down to the lake end in so much pain? All he wanted was a relaxing afternoon at the lake with his best friend of 15 years.
Nothing is that simple now, is it? No, nothing can ever be that simple. In this sick and twisted world can ever work out how we want it. That’s exactly how Elliot felt at that moment. There was a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts going through his mind.
“Why is this happening to me? Why wasn’t it me that died? Who ran into my car? Why can’t my life ever be easy? Why, why, why!!!!”
Elliot had always been prone to be that one person that everything bad happened to. When he was born his father was not around, his mother was a drunk and abusive towards him. By the time he was 5 he had been removed from his mother’s care and into a foster home. But wasn’t that supposed to be a better place than where they take you from? For him it was not. His foster parent’s might not have been abusive in the physical manor, but they weren’t the nicest people on the planet.
At the age of 11 he had been diagnosed with a rare form of cancer. He went through about three years of radiation therapy, and was supposed to be dead by now. He still goes to the doctor every month to make sure the cancer hasn’t come back.
Now his best friend was dead. Stone cold dead.
Elliot finally came to his senses and ran back to the truck that had ran them into the tree. He opened the door and looked inside to find the man who had been driving leaned over in the seat with a blank stare and saliva coming from his mouth. He had had a heart attack at the wheel. Elliot could not feel more hatred for this dead man. He was the reason his best friend was now gone. The poor man was just a victim of circumstance, but that didn’t stop Elliot from hating him.
Once again Elliot fell to his knees in a breakdown of tears and screams. By now there was a car driving by; the driver slowed down and pulled over, rolling her window down.
“Oh my god!” The rather large female driver yelled. “I’m calling the police!” The woman franticly searched through her purse for a cell phone. The whole time she was doing this, Elliot had not moved from his spot on the ground. Suddenly the woman pulled the cell phone out, but in her rush she through it out the window. With a clunk the phone hit the road. The woman threw the door open and waddled over to where it had fallen, picking it up and dialing 911.
While she was dialing and talking to the authorities, Elliot was fuming. All he could think about was how life was out to get him. It seemed that there was a decision to be made. To Elliot, life had no point anymore. All he was was an inconvenience to society.
He stood up, startling the woman who was still franticly talking on the phone.
“What are you doing?!?!” She screamed at him, assuming he was going to hurt her.
Elliot ignored her and walked over to his, now crushed, Camero. He opened the door and stuck his hand beneath the seat, rummaging around until he found the cloth he was looking for. He pulled it out and closed the door to his less than mint condition car. He then walked over to a nearby tree and leaned on it, holding the cloth with care.
“What is THAT?!?!” The lady was still in hysterics. “ What are you doing?!!? The police are coming!”
Once again he ignored the woman. He then began to unwind the cloth from the object beneath it. The woman was now freaking out running around in circles. Elliot pulled the object completely from the cloth, revealing a handgun. He had kept it in the car for self defense purposes; now it was to have the complete opposite purpose.
When the woman saw the gun, she screamed bloody murder, causing a flock of birds to jump to the sky for protection.
Elliot didn’t seem to notice the police cars start pulling up when he put the cold metal in his mouth. It tasted of oil and metal. That was his last conscious thought he had before the trigger was pulled.
Blood went flying from his head. The woman who was standing by him, screamed once again as his blood flew onto her. Elliot fell to the ground, and the paramedics threw him onto a stretcher to take him to the nearest hospital, along with Oliver and the man from the truck.
“Is this hell?” Elliot’s subconscious was speaking to him. It was dark. It was cold. Most of all it was... lonely. He felt like he was floating. Just floating in space. “How long have I been here? An hour? A week? ... A year?” Thoughts kept bubbling inside Elliot's subconscious being.
Just then Elliot started feeling pain. Intense pain. He could feel his body twitching non-stop. His body convulsing in long painful tremors. “What’s going on now?!?!” Elliot screamed. This time not subconsciously. It was audible. His eyes flew open, spinning him into reality. The lights were bright, so Elliot could not see at first. After a moment... He could see... He could see a face that he recognized. Oliver’s face. Not just Oliver’s face, Oliver’s face in a neck brace.
Elliot tried sitting up, but found he could not. He could not move any part of his body other than his head and eyes. It hit him. It hit him like a ton of bricks. Oliver had not died in the car wreck. He was just unconscious from the impact, and breaking his neck. Then he realized something else. He was not dead. He was paralyzed.
Oliver looked down on Elliot’s limp body and started crying. “Why did you do it Elliot? Why? Look what you did to yourself....” He started sobbing.
Elliot tried speaking, realizing he couldn’t do that either. Elliot started crying. It was all a waste... Trying to kill himself was all for nothing. Nothing at all. Now he could never tell his friend he was sorry. He could never walk again. He could never hold another gun in his hand. And for what? All for nothing.
Oliver walked out of the room sobbing. Leaving Elliot to lie there in his misery.