Unstable | Teen Ink

Unstable

October 13, 2017
By A.Beth BRONZE, Maplewood, Missouri
A.Beth BRONZE, Maplewood, Missouri
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

I could still hear the screams in the background. Numerous voices were running through my head as I ran over to catch him. The pulse, the sweat, and the tears streamed down my cold cheekbones. The cold air pushed against my shoulders while soft droplets of rain started to hit the ground. I could still hear the sirens through the thick winds. My hands pressed against the concrete ledge, I could feel the cold vibrations feed into my fingertips. I repeated to myself, “This isn’t real.”
My mind kept replaying the actions that just flashed past me. I watched his hands tightly grip the ledge of the gray concrete before quickly letting himself go.  My were legs moving faster and faster,  and my heart beat was bursting within my chest. My panting becoming louder moving forward to try and grab his hands before they left the grounded surface, I looked down over the ledge of the building. My legs stopped working as if they could see the scene before my eyes. His body was in plain view, meters below laying across the blacktop. His body was still, lifeless like the world around him froze in time. I could see the cars stop briskly pushing their brakes in the road. I could hear the loud honking of their horns, as they shouted wildly. Before I could process the event, waves of loud sirens getting closer rushed into my ears as they arrived to the scene.
I turned away pressing my back against the concrete wall of the roof. My body started to slump downward, hitting the cold concrete surface. I could hear distant footsteps growing louder as they were getting closer, and closer, and closer. Soon I could see a tall figure peeking through the blurriness in my eyes. I could tell from his tall structure and colorful shirt, that is was Johnny. He raced over to me, his breath puffing clouds in front of his mouth. His hands were on his knees as he panted, tilted his head over, and mouthed the words, “Let’s go.”

The ride to the hospital was a complete blur, I could feel nothing, I could see nothing. I felt Johnny’s hands grab onto mine as he tried to comfort me. Watching the tears roll down his face, I could feel his pain as he tightened his grip. The still quietness of the hospital room made it hard to breathe the stiff air. Feeling the coldness upon my shoulders it felt as if the world was slowing down. Only two seats in the waiting room were occupied, yet I still felt overwhelmed and stuffy. I could remember back to times I sat in hospital chairs, watching everyone in the room cry, as I sat perfectly still, unaffected.
I never thought I would feel the crushing pain of losing someone I loved. Our bodies were tense, our muscles refused to relax. I closed my eyes hoping that when I reopened them, that everything that happened would disappear. I opened my eyes only to seal in the fate. My lungs felt like they were suffocating, my body numb. The water in my eyes wouldn't stop flowing, going from my eyes down my face like a river. I felt Johnny rubbing my shoulders whispering the words, “Everything is going to be fine,” softly yet not as though he truly believed them. The doubt in his words was transmitted from his shaking hands and fading voice. Small footsteps rose behind us and I turned my head to take a look.
“Amanda?” the woman said in a surprised tone.
She looked at me as though I wasn’t supposed to be there. I could feel Johnny remove his hands from my shoulders and get up from his seat. The cool air touched my shoulders again, shivering down my spine. He looked at me with his dark eyes, flashing me a little smile before following the woman into the hallway. I slowly got up from my chair and walked over to the hallway, standing fairly close to where they were in order to hear what they were saying.
“It’s her fault, Johnny. They shouldn’t even allow her the privilege of seeing him,” the woman began. Her voice cracked as she reached into her purse to pull out a small tissue.
“There was nothing she could do, you can’t blame her for everything. She’s been here for three hours waiting feeling nothing but guilt. Give her a break, Cece.”
“That’s my brother! I’ll never ‘give her a break’. She was always spouting crap about helping him, yet when he needed it the most, she just let him go!” she said in a loud voice.
Her words pierced through me. I felt nothing but fear as I glanced into the room where he laid. His hands for the first time ever were perfectly still. His hands, resting on the bed like cement blocks. I could clearly see the dark circles under his eyes from his hours upon hours of working and avoiding sleep. I couldn’t stand the picture before me, watching him lie there on the bed lifeless, with various things wired into him. I could almost hear him say “This isn’t necessary,” and pulling them off as he geared up to walk out.
I can’t help but think this was my fault, I should’ve listened when he said he needed an out. I should’ve tried to help him see the pure art he was able to make with his hands. I should’ve tried to heal him when he was wounded. I couldn’t find the time to comfort him and try to make him feel as though he had support.
“I want her to leave, Johnny. I’m serious.”

I could hear the anger in Cece’s voice, struggling to hold back the tears. I walked back to waiting area, afraid. Afraid of the future without him, afraid of not knowing the reasons behind his actions. Afraid of the things I didn’t do. Fearing the unknown, allowing my mind to boggle back and forth with various thoughts of what if?
I couldn’t ease myself, as I sat  in a cold room in a plastic chair. I wasn’t comfortable, I wasn’t stable. I could feel the heat on my face, my eyes watering once more. Feeling my face get numb and stiff, as the tears continued on a trail down my cheeks. I could hear to loud beeps stop as he flatlined, my body felt heavy as the loud noise surrounded me. I laid my head back, allowing the harshness of his screams to consume the depths of my mind.



Similar Articles

JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This article has 0 comments.