Gone

The first time I saw it happen, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. I thought I’d slipped into a coma, in a sleep filled with some kind of perpetual nightmare. I thought there was no way that it could be true, that I was going insane. How does somebody in their right mind see these things happen and do nothing about it? 

It had been a nice summer day, the type that makes you think of barbecues and want to listen to Party in the USA. And where I lived, in San Fransisco, California, it was especially nice. A soft summer breeze, palm trees swaying, and just sunny enough to need sunglasses. I was walking to the pool at my friend’s, Lindsey’s house for her fifteenth birthday party. Most of the people here had pools, and hardly a summer went by without at least a dozen pool parties. She lives a good three miles away from me, but I was up for the walk. I’d slipped my earbuds in and turned on the radio from my phone. Everything felt fine. 

I took a shortcut by walking through an alleyway that led to Golden State Elementary School. I’d taken this path many times, and while crossing through the playground might be considered trespassing, I hadn’t been caught so far. There wasn’t usually anyone there, so it caught me off guard when I heard a rustle. I turned around and saw a flash of movement underneath the awning of the school. Someone was there. 

There was a boy, he was older than me, maybe sixteen or seventeen. I’ll admit that I felt a little flutter in my heart when I saw him. He had curly brown hair with shining blonde streaks. He was tall, taller than me, which doesn’t happen much, even though I’m a girl. He looked like he could be a model or an actor. The only thing wrong was his eyes. They were sky-blue, picture-perfect, but that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that where there should be sparks of life, they were hollow, empty blue holes. It looked like someone had taken a vacuum cleaner and sucked all the good things out of them. Just the sight of his cold, hardened, blue eyes made me stop and stare for a second. 

He didn’t see me, and for that I was glad. I’d felt like I might not be able to find the happiness I’d had only moments before if I’d had to make eye contact. He was clearly in a bad mood, at least a dangerous one, swinging his fist over and over again at the wall, not caring about the bruises he had on his hand already. I caught a glance at his other arm, and there were similar bruises there. The sight of the blue and purple unnerved me. And the weirdest part? He was wearing a sweatshirt, with sleeves that went all the way to his wrists. What was this boy doing? I considered calling to him or at least writing a note, but something told me that this was a very private situation. If he knew I was there… I hurried away, trying to get the image out of my head. If this is the type of person that can hit a wall over and over again, what would he do if he knew someone was watching? 

Lindsey’s party was dull, to say the least. When you’ve lived in a rich neighborhood in California for your whole life, fancy parties start to get boring. I’m not trying to sound spoiled, but I hadn’t been able to find the fun in the party. Michael Newman was even there. Lindsey was sure he liked me, and she was right, but I couldn’t find it in myself to care. I told myself that nothing was wrong, the boy had just been in an argument, or found out he had to take summer school or something. People can get mad, and maybe his way of dealing with it was hitting the elementary school wall. Who knew? But I didn’t believe myself. 

A week passed, and my thoughts were static, stuck. The single image of the joyless eyes was stuck in my brain. Eventually, I caved and asked to go for a walk. I took my usual route and even listened to music to try and look normal. I didn’t think anyone would be there. He’d just been a dream, or maybe my imagination. But I didn’t think I could imagine something that looked like that. 

The elementary school was still empty, school out for the summer. I walked around the back, feeling my heart start to thud in my chest. What if he saw me this time? What if he didn’t want anyone watching him. I stood around the corner much too long. Waiting, listening. When I finally worked up my courage, I stepped around the corner. And I saw him. He wasn’t hitting the wall this time, just sitting against it, his head in his hands. His curls were messy and his cheeks were smudged with dirt. He still wore long sleeves, but his hands were covered in cuts and bruises that made me nauseous. 

I knew I should say something now. The boy was being abused, or something. But what in the world could one fifteen-year-old girl do against that kind of thing? I stopped, letting the warm wind blow against my face as I watched him. He didn’t look up and he didn’t move. His eyes were open, though, and I saw them again. The sightless eyes seemed to see too much. I walked away. 

The boy now filled my every thought. His eyes, his hands, his wind-blown hair. I saw them in my dreams. I saw him. And even though I’d never heard him talk, I heard him crying out to me, begging me to help him. Or he just stared at me, eyes boring into my soul. Seeing my heart. I would wake up in a cold sweat, shaking and unable to move from the terror. My parents started to notice that I wasn’t sleeping. I had bags under my eyes that wouldn’t go away. It was like a ghost, haunting me, taunting me. It begged me to come back. So I did. 

With my palms sweating, and my jaw clenched, I walked back to the elementary school. My heart thumped in my chest, I was shaking. The boy in my thoughts was smiling now, lips bloody and teeth cracked. His eyes were black instead of blue. I had to see, to know. 

I stood at the corner, too scared to look, but too determined to turn back. There was a kind of stillness that made the world stand in utter silence. The wind had stopped. I stepped around the corner. 

The boy wasn’t there. I blinked, then blinked again. My breathing picked up. I looked in the shadows under the awning. He wasn’t there. I could handle whatever now, but I just wanted to see him! I had to, I felt like it was my responsibility. I ran around the entire school, searching in every crevice, every nook, every cranny. There were only cobwebs and spiders. Only dust and dirt. 

Dust and dirt, and a single, folded piece of paper. I picked it up and unfolded it. 

Hello, 

You wanted to help, but it was too late. I had to go. 

He was gone, and I’d done nothing.