Just Making Things Harder

That night, I got some of the best sleep I had gotten in my entire life. It was refreshing when I woke up that morning. It was a Sunday, and I didn’t have work today.

I got out of my bed around eleven, made myself breakfast, cleaned up around the house, different chores that I never had the time or patience to do otherwise.

I thought about texting Oli, but decided not to. I’d wait for him to text me first, or I’d see him tomorrow at school. Either one.

As I was cleaning, I once again came across the discarded jacket that I had dropped on my floor the day before. I told myself then that I’d take it back to him today, and I knew I couldn’t get around that.

Against my better judgement, I decided to take it anyway.

I finished up all my cleaning, making sure the house was spotless just in case my mother or father came home. They’d be mad if I just trashed the place.

Trying to buy myself time, I went out and got some lunch and did some general shopping .I was all out of cereal and had been forced to go without it for a while, so I decided to buy that. Everything else I usually brought home from the store when I needed it.

I sat in the parking lot afterwards, trying to think of another way to waste time from going over there. I preferred to not see him. What if his dad was there and I had to explain to him why I was there? That wasn’t going to be a simple explanation.

I drove around in circles for a while before finally accepting that I had to go. I went the oh-so familiar direction of his house. His car was sitting in the driveway, so I knew he was there. His father, on the other hand, wasn’t there.

I breathed one short sigh of relief before getting out. I still wasn’t out of deep waters yet.

I snatched the plain black jacket off my passenger seat and climbed out. It was eerily quiet around his house, and it freaked me out in a way I couldn’t actually explain.

Slowly walking to the door, I glanced around to the windows, looking for any signs of life. Maybe he was asleep, I wasn’t sure.

I knocked on the door and waited, but got no answer. Usually he was quick to open the door, even if he didn’t know who it was.

I tried the doorknob, surprised to find it unlocked. Making the decision to go in, give the jacket back and leave, I walked in the house.

Just as I shut it behind me, I heard a crash from upstairs. From his room.

“Cameron?” I called quietly. I got no reply.

I considered my options for a moment before finally deciding to go upstairs. I climbed his stairs quickly and went to stand in front of his door.

It was still broken, but looked as if someone had tried to fix it. Cameron probably did when he wasn’t able to close it all the way.

I took a deep breath before pushing the door open. Then the jacket fell from my hands as I screamed.

There was Cameron, my ex-best friend, hanging from a rope tied to his ceiling fan, a chair flipped over on the floor below him.

My body took over without a thought and I raced forward to him. I was nowhere his size but I jumped on his bed and grabbed his body, lifting him just enough so he could breathe. I pulled the rope off of him and laid him out on his bed.

He wasn’t breathing when I leaned down to check. Immeditaly I pulled out my phone and dialed 9-1-1 and put it on speaker phone as I started to perform CPR.

“This is 911, how may I help you?” A lady on the other end asked.

I hadn’t noticed until this moment that I was crying. No, sobbing was a better word for it.

“M-my friend tried t-to kill himself. He-e’s not breathing. I-I’m trying C-CPR now” I said hurriedly, trying to calm myself while I pushed on his chest.

“Ma’am please calm down, can you tell me where you are?” She said calmly, freaking me out even more.

I rambled out Cameron’s address, hoping she could understand me. She informed me an ambulance would be coming but I didn’t reply, I just kept trying.

I gave him mouth-to-mouth, going back and forth between pushing on his chest and giving him air.

Finally, my work paid off and he started breathing. But it was very shallow.

“P-Please, Cam. Don’t die” I said quietly, hunched over him and stroking his hair. He wasn’t even awake and couldn’t hear me, but I had to do something.

I had hated him for the past couple weeks and never let him explain anything, and then this happens.

“This is all my fault” I whispered right before I heard the door open downstairs and multiple pairs of feet enter the house.

I shouted to tell them where they were. Many men came in then, a mobile stretcher with them. They told me to move away, but I just couldn’t go far.

They got him out to the ambulance before one of them asked if I wanted to ride with them.

I nodded quickly before climbing in the vehicle. I grabbed my phone and sent a quick text to Oli, knowing I’d have to turn it off. I told him I was at the hospital and I’d be there for a while.

I just couldn’t get it out of my head that if I had maybe listened to him, listened to what he was trying to tell me and understood him, then maybe this wouldn’t have happened.

I couldn’t help but think all of this was my fault.