Misplaced Words

Minutes. Hours. Days. Weeks. Months.

It’s been about three months since my ‘accident’. Exactly five weeks since Naomi was- is gone. The scene hasn’t left my head since: her head being lurched forward as if in a car accident, her body half splayed over the table we were sitting at. That burning, bloody hole in the back of her skull. The way everyone gasped, caught off guard as to what happened. A split second later I start screaming, sending everyone into a panic. I pull her limp body to sit up, shaking her, screaming at her to wake up even though I knew she never would. Everyone in the restaurant when berserk. Vic nearly jumped across the table before Kellin could get his hand on him. I couldn’t stop screaming.

Naomi, get up. Please open your eyes.

“No!” Vic screamed. It was the most horrifying shrill I’ve ever heard. I’ve never heard such a thing come out of him. “Naomi!”

Kellin was trying to calm him, but really, who could? We all just watched her get shot and none of us could do anything about it. It was straight through her head, even hit Vic in the shoulder, not that he noticed. She was gone the moment it happened. Tony tried prying me off of her, but I just held her body, not paying mind to the blood that was staining my shirt. Mike had to help him and literally un-wrap my arms from her and pull me away. Soon after the ambulance arrived, called by the manager, and rolled Naomi away. It was no use.

Naomi, you’re fine. I’ll see you soon, alright? I’ll be there when you first open your eyes in that hospital bed, you just wait.

So I waited. And waited. And waited. Until they finally gave us the news. The news that we already knew, but didn’t want to admit.

“She can’t,” Vic sobbed, “She can’t be gone. I was supposed to marry her!”

He sobs, his shoulder wrapped in white gauze. Kellin is right next to him, pulling him into his arms as he cries. They are so clearly best friends. That’s when it hit me. Everything came flooding in; being home with the family, my first audition, the orientation showcase, winter fest, flag football Fridays, major show, second year at MJ Academy. All those days I spent getting closer and closer to Naomi, growing more fond of Vic, getting hot and cold towards Lizzy, losing Jack because of selfish reasoning. Everything. All at the worst time too, because then the impact of it all was worse. I had lost my best friend, and didn’t realize it until she was actually gone. I didn’t get to make her laugh with our usual inside jokes, didn’t get to remind her of those great dishes that I loved so much, couldn’t bring up those times we messed around with our hair and makeup, making each other look like trolls. It’s all out the window now, because that person, who was out to get me, decided they were going to change their target that night. If their goal was to hit me hard and make me suffer for it, they have succeeded.

I’ve laid in bed for who knows how long now. I’ve lost track. I’ve paced the room countless of times. Refused to eat. Didn’t want to step outside. Just cried. Cried and look through countless of pictures and videos, thought about the good and bad times that weren’t caught on camera, and cried some more. No one has really visited. Lizzy stopped by a couple of times since then, just to check up on me, make sure I hadn’t gone and made myself as dead as Naomi. I could tell that she was distracted, because she was scarred herself. Now, Lizzy and Naomi weren’t two peas in a pod, but they got along. Plus, it doesn’t matter how close you are to a person, if you sit there and watch them become a limp bloody bobble head right in front of you, you’re going to hurt too.

So I’ve pretty much sat here since then, glad that its summer break and we have no classes or exams to worry about at a time like this. At the same time, it’s such a horrible, horrible thing. How I dread the long days that still await, where I won’t hear a cheerful knock at my door, a giggle to cheer me up, a smile and voice that will remind me that I’m not alone when I feel that I am.

“I love you Naomi, and I miss you so, so much.”

I wait for a response, but she can’t hear me, can she?

Besides my own pain, I hurt for Vic as well. My poor best friend, living without the love of his life. It hurts a little to admit it to myself. One reason because I kind of wish I was that to him. Right now, I don’t really know. I don’t care. I can’t care about that when something like this is weighing me down. The second reason is because his love is gone. I never got to see how beautiful they were together until that night at my house everyone stopped by to drop me off. They sat on the couch, they fingers laced together, as if it was always meant to be that way. The way she’d smile at him and oh, the look he gave her. I have never seen that look in his eyes before. He was so dysfunctional with Lizzy, they could never get anything right. But Naomi, she was absolutely perfect for him. I was happy about that. I would be happy about that too, now. Even if she was still here, and I got my memory back, there’s no denying that their love would have beat anything Vic and I could have had. Right?

Ouch.

I really should check on him, but, I can’t. Every time I motivate myself too, and I get up, reach for that door knob, I end up breaking down right there, never leaving the room. I just can’t. Even if I know that I need to. I can’t stay locked up in here all day. Not any longer than I already have. I need to leave. Breathe the outside air and get some sort of closure. I’m not sure how I’ll do it, but this certainly won’t help. I’ve barely eaten, the fatty that I am, I’m almost positive he hasn’t eaten anything. Just drinking his life away if I know anything about Vic.

I have to do it. I have to be strong for once. For the both of us.

I sit up and look around the dark, messy room. I threw everything around in a blind rage when I got in the next morning from the hospital and didn’t bother cleaning up any time after that. I slip my feet into some slippers and stand, shuffling over to the door. I’m sure I don’t smell the greatest either, but at the moment I don’t let it stop me because if I do, I’ll try to take a shower, then end up in bed once again. So I just use the nearest body spray I lay my hands on and make a small sweep of my body before letting myself out of my room. I quickly close the door behind me and lean against it, smacked by the cool breeze of summer air that’s entering through the hall windows.

“You can do this,” I tell myself over and over as I drag my feet down the hall, through the boy’s archway, around a corner, and down another hall.

I stand in front of his door for a few minutes, listening for any source of life before I knock. Nothing. I knock again and a croaking voice tells me it’s open. I step in and to no surprise see that his room is a mess as well. He doesn’t look decent either: his clothing all tethered up and torn, with alcohol stains on it. He hasn’t shaved either.

“V-Vic,” I whisper, trying to contain the feeling in my stomach.

This doesn’t seem like a good idea after all. I knew it was right to come though, no matter how bad of shape he’s in, he needs it. I need it too.

He mumbles something before looking up at me with tears in his eyes. I’m sure I bring a huge reminder to him of our best friend. I don’t mean to hurt him though. I step in and shut the door behind me, then try and walk closer to him. He watches me with this dreary look on his face as I crouch beside him on the floor and sit. I hesitantly lean my head on his, hoping he wouldn’t lash out at me or something. I don’t know, we’ve never experiences anything like this. He doesn’t scream, he doesn’t cuss, he doesn’t yell. He laughs.

He laughs, and laughs, and laughs, until finally it turns into whimpering sobs. It’s my turn to console him. I embrace him and allow him to let all of his feelings out, and along the way do so myself. We look like a sappy drama, sitting and crying together. But it’s a nice thing.

One step forward.