Who Knew.
Lost In Awe Of You
I still let out a small scream as we came around the ferris-wheel for the fifth time tonight. I grabbed his hand as he laughed at me yet again. I hated heights but I felt safe so long as he was with me. We had decided to take our friendship up a notch and had been dating all summer. The county fair had arrived, bringing with it the end of summer and the beginning of our final year at school. I laughed as we were brought to a stop; he wanted to walk around for a bit—probably play a few games.
He never had a good arm, sports were never his thing. Give him a pencil or a pen and a surface he could inscribe and he was pretty much invincible. He was so talented; he just didn’t see it himself. He excused himself from me, said he had to use the restroom. I waited in line to get some popcorn, I was a bit hungry, but not famished—I wasn’t brave enough to eat the fair hot dogs. I was sitting on a bench when I lost track of time. All of a sudden I was hit with a wave of uneasiness. Something was wrong—terribly wrong.
I dropped my popcorn and headed towards the nearest bathrooms, he wasn’t there; I called and called his name, asking stranger’s to see if he was in there. He was missing. He wouldn’t have left me—he, he wouldn’t. I raced to the other end of the fair, the darker end; the venues were spread further apart, allowing dark spots to appear between each other. That’s where I found him, on the ground, knees pulled to his chest—his left arm hanging limply by his side. His eyes held nothing, not the familiar spark I always saw—how did I not notice he wasn’t happy?
“What are you doing?”
He shoved me away as I knelt in front of him, reaching for his arm.
“Just leave me alone—go away.”
I shook my head and he just glared at me.
“What happened to you?”
He just looked away from me; I glanced down and that’s when I noticed the empty pill bottle next to his bleeding arm. I leant up and kissed his forehead. I grabbed his face and forced him to look at me.
“I’m sorry.”
I let him go and ran off—the nearest payphone was clear across the fairgrounds. I called 9-1-1 and told them where he was—anonymous call. I raced back as soon as I heard the sirens; I watched as the defeat crushed his wish to die. The flashing lights brought a crowd, a crowd I hid in. That was the last time I saw him. His mother sent him to a mental hospital; she didn’t know how to help him. His younger brother went to private school along with his other friends—he was the only friend I had at school.
He never had a good arm, sports were never his thing. Give him a pencil or a pen and a surface he could inscribe and he was pretty much invincible. He was so talented; he just didn’t see it himself. He excused himself from me, said he had to use the restroom. I waited in line to get some popcorn, I was a bit hungry, but not famished—I wasn’t brave enough to eat the fair hot dogs. I was sitting on a bench when I lost track of time. All of a sudden I was hit with a wave of uneasiness. Something was wrong—terribly wrong.
I dropped my popcorn and headed towards the nearest bathrooms, he wasn’t there; I called and called his name, asking stranger’s to see if he was in there. He was missing. He wouldn’t have left me—he, he wouldn’t. I raced to the other end of the fair, the darker end; the venues were spread further apart, allowing dark spots to appear between each other. That’s where I found him, on the ground, knees pulled to his chest—his left arm hanging limply by his side. His eyes held nothing, not the familiar spark I always saw—how did I not notice he wasn’t happy?
“What are you doing?”
He shoved me away as I knelt in front of him, reaching for his arm.
“Just leave me alone—go away.”
I shook my head and he just glared at me.
“What happened to you?”
He just looked away from me; I glanced down and that’s when I noticed the empty pill bottle next to his bleeding arm. I leant up and kissed his forehead. I grabbed his face and forced him to look at me.
“I’m sorry.”
I let him go and ran off—the nearest payphone was clear across the fairgrounds. I called 9-1-1 and told them where he was—anonymous call. I raced back as soon as I heard the sirens; I watched as the defeat crushed his wish to die. The flashing lights brought a crowd, a crowd I hid in. That was the last time I saw him. His mother sent him to a mental hospital; she didn’t know how to help him. His younger brother went to private school along with his other friends—he was the only friend I had at school.