Supress, Don't Caress, the Beast Within.

By , boring, OR

Supress, Don't Caress, the Beast Within.
         
It started on a Friday night, during one of my favorite seasons of the year. Summer. It is the only time of year where stress is taken off your shoulders, you can go to the river almost every day, and there’s a party every weekend. My friends and I couldn’t have been more excited as we came to the end of our junior year, we all had big plans. If only everything hadn’t gone wrong that Friday night. If only I hadn’t made the biggest mistake of my life that Friday night.
  There was 5 of us in total. Jacob, Eli, Roy, Beau, and me.  We were all skateboarding home from Jason's summer blowout party, and we were going to pass a skatepark. When the park came into sight, Roy suggested I show them the 720 gazelle flip I claimed to have perfected, only because he didn't believe I could do it. My c***y persona led my friends to doubt my skills; however, after four attempts, I finally landed it. After realizing I landed it, I threw my arms out in victory, and turned to look back at my friends with a smirk. That's when I realized something was wrong with Beau. But I was too late.
He was sweating and breathing funny, even though he hadn't been riding any longer than the rest of us. All of a sudden, he dropped to the ground hard, like a rock. The smile left my face, the celebratory hoots vanished from the air, as we all hurried over to our friend. Jacob was the first to point out the lack of movement in Beau's chest, and Eli ran to the road to find someone to help, all while I pulled out my phone and dialed 911.
          It felt like the ambulance took hours, but Mrs. Moody must have been speeding, because she got there incredibly fast, only to collapse in a heap of tears after a brief conversation with the man who tended to her son.  That's when I knew his condition was fatal, and I began reflecting on the night. He told me he was having troubles breathing, and it felt like there was weight on his chest, and I disregarded all of it. At this point I got on my knees and prayed for my friend. I prayed that his life wouldn’t end, but god didn’t answer my prayers that night.          
On June 24, 2016, Beau Moody, age 17, died of an unexpected heart attack at a skatepark, in the southside of Chicago.  I lost one of my best friends that night. They say it's unusual, bizarre even, an active teenager with no family history of heart issues, who went so far as to stay away from things like caffeine, dropping dead so suddenly. Mrs. Moody was adamant in her efforts to explain that this wasn't any of our faults, but I know  I could have prevented this.         
Beau and I were the closest of our group of friends. Our mothers had been best friends since high school, therefore we'd known eachother since we were toddlers. For this reason alone I should have known something was wrong with him. I knew his every habit, and all of his patterns. I should have listened to his complaints, and I shouldn't have pushed him past his limits. He would still be here if I hadn’t encouraged him to come to the party in the first place. Maybe if he had stayed home his parents could have helped him when his heart finally gave out. Maybe if we didn't stop at the park, so that I could show off, he would have been able to get help sooner. It’s my fault Beau died that night. I can't live bearing the fact that I'm responsible for his inability to go to college. Or find a girl to marry. Maybe it would have been a guy, if only he had lived long enough to figure out something so fundamental. My best friend’s life was cut so short because I was negligent. My decisions ended him. It's my fault. I'm so sorry Beau.

          On January 10, 2017, Seth Murphy, age 18, died of a self inflicted bullet wound to the head inside his childhood home in Chicago.






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