Throw the Bottle, Break the Door, and Disappear

I'm sprinting through the rain, soaked to the bone. I've just left my house, and it's almost like I can still hear my mom calling me to come back. I can't go back, not yet...I have to be sure.

I'm pushing through the rain, through people, it's ten o'clock on a Saturday night. It's raining, like it always does during these sorts of things. I'm pretty sure I'm getting stares. It's October, and I'm in only my plaid boxers and a tee shirt. My arms ache, and my legs feel like they're about to snap in two, because I've been running for miles.

God, why does he live so far away? I desperately think, pushing my dark brown hair away from my eyes. I hadn't even thought to get in the car when I left. Lisa had called...and I had blasted out the door, running like there was no tomorrow...and there isn't; not for everyone.

I'm on his block, and I'm sure I'm about to pass out. I push harder, I have to get there now. I see all of the ambulances, police cars, and I slip further into denial.

No, not happening, not happening!

I slam into his front door, and, twisting the doorknob, throw myself inside. His mom, who is in the living room, screams because of my sudden intrusion. At first I'm on my knees, panting, exhausted. Then I feel two police men grip my arms, and pull me up, preparing to throw me out.

"NO!" I scream, and I thrash in their hold, which pisses them off. They open the door.

"Oh, please, don't! That's Aidan, I called him here," Lisa says. The police eye me suspiciously, but let me back onto my knees, so I can rest for a moment.

"Damn, kid, did you run all the way here?" one officer asks. He's not laughing; he sounds surprised. I peek up at him, he's a short guy, and he's a little stout. I nod, I wipe the rain off my face, and get up. "Hey, easy there, kid. You need to rest for a minute." He looks genuinely concerned about my well being, and lays a hand on my shoulder, but I shrug him off. I see his badge, it says Brown.

"I'm fine. I need to see him," is all I say. He looks around at the other police officers, who aren't paying attention to us.

He leans in, "I'm probably not supposed to do this, but I think this is something you need to do." He helps me up, and we quietly slip up the stairs. I don't know if any of them are watching us, but I'm really passed the point of caring.

I climb the stairs, and when I reach the top, stand in front of his door. It's not roped off, nothing's been touched, and I wonder if anyone's actually been up here yet. Besides Lisa, of course.

I'm shaking as I grip his door handle, I try to turn it, but my vibrating fingers refuse to operate correctly. My breathing is labored, and I can hear the officer beside me whisper.

"Hey, kid, you sure you can-"

"Shut up. I'm fine." I know cutting him off like that was rude, but I had to have silence. I couldn't do this with any noise other than the falling rain outside.

I press my palm against the wall, steadying myself, and I slowly wrench the doorknob, and I thrust the door open.

I collapse to my knees, and I'm sobbing uncontrollably. I can't take my eyes off of him, lying on his bed, his eyes still open, empty. Both wrists are flared out besides him, slashed. Blood is on the carpets, on his bed, even a little on the walls. I begin to thrash. I'm banging both fists on his carpet, and I'm screaming. I rush up, and I throw everything off his desk. I come to a picture of two boys, about eight, each holding a soccer ball. I clutch it in my hands, and throw it at a wall, shattering it.

"Why did you do this?" I shriek. "Why did you leave me here?" I'm on the floor again, crying my eyes out. I can't look at him anymore, I can't take this. I will never forgive him.

"Hey, kid, you can't be up here!" I hear a gruff man shout. Then, I feel two strong hands grip my underarms, and lift me up off the ground. I helplessly let them drag me down the stairs.

"Oh, Aidan, I didn't mean for you to see!" Lisa sobs. "Matthew didn't mean for you to see!"

I throw my head up. "How do you know what he wanted? Did he say anything? Did you let him do this?" I'm screaming at her, Matthew's mom, and I'm struggling in the arms of the police.

"Kid, Aidan, calm down." All of the police are saying it, and the one who took me up there stares at me woefully.

"I'm sorry kid. I didn't know you'd react like this."

Another officer pivots around to him, "You shouldn't have taken him up there, anyway! We haven't even cleared it yet!" The rest of the conversation is dead to me, drowned in my numbness. I am no longer struggling, thrashing, or screaming. I hang limp in the two officers' hold.

I have to leave. I need to get out of here, this house, this place. I jerk myself suddenly out of the hands that hold me, and plunge out the door. I'm sprinting again, this time away from his house. My best friend's house.

I drive myself into a small wooded area just outside his block, and tear through the trees, tears cascading from my eyes at the speed of the rain around me. I soon crash into a tree house, and thrust myself up into it. Pictures of us hang on the walls. Our dads had built it for us shortly after we had met, when we were eight. At seventeen, we haven't been here in a long while, and I'm wishing we had.

Partly because I'm bawling, partly because I'm soaked with rain, the pictures and the toys are blurred.

Flashes of memory shoot before my eyes. We're eight, climbing into this place for the first time, our dads standing proudly below us. Then we're ten, and we're painting it green, our favorite color. We're thirteen, and we're talking about the girls we like at our school. We're fifteen, and we're laughing about how we ever came to this place.

I look up, back in the present. I'm furious, more angry than I've ever been before. Matt isn't here anymore, I'm alone. In a cold world, he left me. I feel somehow this is my fault...and then I'm scolding myself for being foolish.

I didn't slash his wrists, I think bitterly. I didn't get the blood on the walls. I didn't leave my best friend, he left me.

"Can't you see you've taken so much with you?" I whisper softly to the pictures on the walls, the only remains I will ever have of Matt.

"Can't you see you've left the worst with me?"

.*.*.*.

I sit up in that tree house for a long time, reliving every memory, good and bad. I'm not angry anymore, just really, really tired. I'm thinking of everything that's happened to him, and I still can't see a reason he'd end it like this.

I'm dropping myself from the tree house, down the ladder, and I begin to pace myself back to his house, because I'm tired of running.

I quickly arrive, and I calmly come through the door. Most of the ambulances are gone, and only a few police officers remain, including the one who had shown me to Matt. I know I'd been up in the tree house for a while, but I hadn't realized how long. They glance up at me, and his eyes beg me to forgive him. I do, because he was only trying to help me. His intentions were good.

Lisa jumps up, "Oh, Aidan, I'm so sorry, so, so sorry! I didn't mean-"

"Mrs. McCoy, it's fine. It's not your fault," I say calmly, and I hug her. Officer Brown stands and hands me an envelope.

"It's addressed to you. I'm sorry for your loss. I really am." He nods, and sits back on the couch to talk to Lisa.

I go up to his room, still bloody, and sit on his floor. I open the letter.

.*.*.*.

Aidan,

I'm writing this to you because you're all I have left here, and I don't think Dad would want me to say goodbye to anyone else.
When he passed away, you came over everyday, you pulled me through the hardest time in my life. You never once left me, not for anything. Thank you. You were there when Mom was too busy crying, or when she was too caught up at work. You've been my brother through everything. Thank you.
If I were to say I was sorry for doing this, I'd be lying. This was something I had to do. I am sorry, though, for not being able to be there for you through this, the hardest time in your life. Well, it may not be the hardest, but I do imagine that my being gone will hurt you a bit. God, I sound so conceited. I'm sorry for that, too.
I don't think there's a reason I can give you that will make this better, easier, less painful, so I won't try. I wouldn't blame you for never forgiving me, either. I don't think I'd forgive me.
It's not your fault, I'll tell you that much, so don't think it is. It's not Mom's either, so be sure to tell her that. This was something I had to do. Yes, I did have to do it this way. I had to slash my wrists, and I had to get blood everywhere. Don't let Mom clean it up, though.
You're my best friend, my brother, and everything I've ever had. Don't forget that. Don't ever forget that. I love you, man. And no, my dying secret isn't that I'm gay. My dying secret is, well, my dying secret. It's going to die with me, so don't even waste your time over trying to figure it out, because you won't.
I'm sorry I'm making you go through this, and tell Mom I love her. Don't let anyone else read this, okay? This is for you, and you alone. Thank you for always being there.
Goodbye, with love,
Matthew Daniel McCoy

P.S. I know the rose is girly. So sue me.

I shake my head, and stuff the letter back in it's envelope. It's sad to know this is all I have left of him, that these were his last words. I don't think that, as much as it depresses me, I will ever be able to get rid of this.

Lisa comes through the doorway, "Aidan, dear, what did it say?"

"He says that he loves you, and that he's sorry." Not exactly true, but it's not a total lie. Matt wouldn't have cared, anyhow.

She sobs, and runs from the room. I'm now, once again, alone.

Then, I think back to the post-script of his letter.

P.S. I know the rose is girly. So sue me.

What rose? I look around the room, and, under his bed I see a green stem peaking out, I crawl to it, making sure I don't get my best friend's blood on my hands or knees. I pull it out from under his bed. A black rose, complete with blood stains. I wrap it in my jacket, and I leave his house. I don't think I'll ever go back, either. Too much pain, too much death.

I walk all the way back to my house, on the wet streets. It had stopped raining a while ago. I step inside. My mom is still on the couch, and she looks up at me.

"Baby, I'm so sorry." She, too, hugs me. I only nod, and start climbing our stairs. I step into my room, so clean and neat, no blood on the floor. I set the rose in my water cup, because it's not like I'm thirsty. I change into some dry clothes, and crawl into my bed. I don't think I'll get much sleep. Thanks for that, Matt.

Thanks a lot.

.*.*.*.

Sing me to sleep
I'll see you in my dreams
Waiting to say
"I miss you, I'm so sorry."