Mission Statement

"Go into yourself. Search for the reason that bids you write; find out whether it is spreading out its roots in the deepest places of your heart, acknowledge to yourself whether you would have to die if it were denied you to write."

Monday, July 23, 2012

I DID IT

Convulsions wracked Dan’s body as he stepped inside the Valley Springs University Chapel. The vomit was literally building in his chest--he could feel it resting just above his heart. It stopped his breath into short little spurts and he knew he was sweating profusely. He concentrated harder than he ever had to control himself as he scanned the room for a seat, preferably in the back, of the already full chapel. He sat down next to a group of blonde, sobbing, obviously freshmen girls who took no notice of him as they leafed through the memorial program.

Dan looked over at them and his eyes instantly hit the smiling picture of Josh, beaming out from the front of the program.

The oxy…I gave him the oxy and the alcohol. I watched as his high took affect and laughed at his stupidity--at the way the drug took such instant effect on him and the ecstasy that crossed his eyes. He took another hit and another swig, like a seasoned addict. I didn’t stop him. His eyes lulled back and his body swayed. I wanted more. Had to have more. “Just across the tracks," I told him.

“What a bright future he had. Such a shame, to die so young," Dan heard an elderly woman say across the aisle. He glanced at her and realized it was one of the old Cafeteria biddies, who consistently served on them at 2 AM--even when the cafeteria was closed and she was just cleaning up-- when both had the munchies after coming off a high. Josh always smiled and flirted, trying to get her to knock off a dollar or two, which she always did. She caught his gaze, stared long and hard before Dan realized he was still looking at her. She smiled and waved. Secretly she wished it was he, and not the cute tall one, who had been killed. But Dan had already seen death. He had seen its bright lights…

He followed as I crossed the steel train tracks. 

I didn’t wait for him when his foot got stuck between the rails. My craving got the best of me and I turned and left him, as he yelled curses my way and struggled to free his foot. I heard it first--the haunting call of the train. I turned and saw the lights bouncing from tree to tree, showing its speed. 

But I couldn’t move. 

Wide eyed, fear had paralyzed me. Josh finally saw it and I watched him wrench at his foot. His high had worn off as fast as it had hit him, and he now knew his peril. He looked frantically from the train to me. He stared into me and past me, knowing I was leaving him to his fate for a stupid high. That this was it, and I was going to watch it from the safety of the trees. 

The brakes screeched, but it was already too late. The train slammed into Josh, instantly breaking his neck and tossing his lifeless body 50 feet in the air. 

And I watched as it slammed back to earth, twisted and broken. Drenched in blood.
                                               
Dan’s fists were clenched and sweat poured from his brow, as the memory hit him like a train. The people surrounding him noticed his discomfort but nodded it off, figuring he was just another aggrieved student. “Maybe he knew Josh," they thought. Dan opened his eyes and saw them staring. He could feel their gaze boring into his soul.

“They know,” he thought, as the guilt took over his sanity. They accused him without a single word. A girl whispered mockingly to the friend sitting beside her, then stared. Dan couldn’t take it; they were eating him alive. As he stood to leave, someone walked up to the podium. Dan sat back down as Josh’s older brother, Neil, stood before the congregation.

Neil looked almost exactly like Josh—sandy brown hair, fit, a Goliath among mere mortals, and gray eyes.

Josh’s eyes. He’s looking at me with Josh’s eyes.

He didn’t speak; he scanned the room with angst and an air of accusation.

“I want to thank all of you for the condolences and well wishes on behalf of my family," he addressed them, sounding more like a robot than a person. “This college community has touched the hearts of my family during this very hard time, and we will always remember that. This was home to Josh. And he made some true friends here, some better than others, obviously,” he stopped and looked for awhile into the audience. 

Dan’s limbs were burning. He couldn’t look up. He couldn’t face Neil.

“I’m not gonna stand here and paint a perfect picture of Josh, because Josh was nowhere near perfect. He had a mess of problems and those problems don’t go away just because he’s dead. His problems are more profound now that he’s gone, and that’s what killed him. And no one could stop him, or save him in more ways than one. I know because I’ve tried to straighten him out, for my parents’ sake and that caused a huge riff in our relationship. And for years, I've written him off as a waste of air. But he was still my brother and he didn’t deserve this. Three days ago, he wasn’t my favorite person in the world, but I wouldn’t wish this on anybody. He should be alive right now still giving my parents heartache and trying to figure out life for himself. But a bottle of pills and a train took that away from him."

"Someone was there that night; I know someone was with him. Josh never partied alone. Someone saw what happened and anonymously called the cops, this much I've been told. That person needs to stop being a coward and speak up. My family needs closure; we need to know why he was out there and why this happened. You, whoever you are, are just as responsible as Josh if you remain silent. I just…” he stopped, trying to stiffen his anger, “come forward if you have any decency.”

Neil stepped down from the podium and walked straight down the aisle, towards the door. Dan held his breath and tried to disappear.

Why did I come? Why did I come?

Dan felt a hand tap his shoulder. He opened his eyes and there was Neil, standing right in front of him with no safety space of 30 feet for Dan to cower in.

“Sorry we haven’t come to the dorm to pick up his stuff. I know what a pig he was,” Neil said, trying to stifle a laugh. The light from his eyes faded in an instant, as if he again realized where he was. His head dropped and he took Dan’s hand in his. “I’m not wrong in this; someone was there and we’re gonna find that bastard. We’re gonna find him, right Dan?”

Say something! Say Something! Open your mouth and spit something out!

“Sorry,” Dan said with an exhale of breath. Neil smiled and nodded. He dropped Dan’s hand and walked out.

Dan could still feel the grip of Neil’s hand, even after he was gone. The pressure was building in his body. He needed to leave. He needed to run--to get away from this place and the memories pounding his brain. He stood to leave, as the congregation began to react to Neil’s onslaught of anger. No one noticed Dan, walking stiffly out of the chapel and staring straight ahead.
           


Three days later, Dan’s body was found hanging from the water pipe of his dorm room. His RA nearly fainted when he came to investigate a strong smell, reported by the others in the wing, and found Dan’s lifeless body instead. 

University Police immediately came to investigate. They scoured the room for clues; anything to justify the suicide of a young man with no reported psychiatric problems. They found nothing until they searched the jeans on Dan’s body. 

Inside his left pocket was a crumpled, blue program.

“Hey that’s the kid who got hit by the train last week,” one of the officer’s said, as the program was straightened and laid flat on the floor. Upon closer inspection, the officers realized something was written across the picture on the front cover of the program.

In large black ink, right below the dead college boy’s smiling face were three words;

                                    I DID IT

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