Shy Hero

WARNING: Suicidal Ideations

Tony:

Why do they blame me?

I didn’t do it.

I would never hurt her.

I laid back on my bed with the lights off, tear streaks drying on my face. I don’t know how long I’ve been laying here, maybe days. Time has no meaning to me anymore. Not after today. I’d tried to help, I swear I did.

A burning ball of depression had been unfurling in my chest since that day. Every day has been worse than the last. I’d finally gathered up all of my courage to go to school and… 

And my friends looked at me like I was a criminal like I had done it. Why did they look at me like that? My best friends wouldn’t even look at me. When I needed them most, they all disappeared in a puff of smoke. Do they even exist anymore? Do I?

She exists. She may be the only thing that still exists.

A sudden knock on the door startles me but I don’t move to open it. The door opens. I don’t look at who’s standing there, I keep staring up at the ceiling. The pale amber light from the hallway hurts my eyes and I have to close them.

“Food’s ready, killer,” my little brother, Danny, says harshly before slamming the door. The words hit me like a sledgehammer to the head. I can’t breathe. I roll onto my side with my back to the door, curling up in a ball as the tears start again. Outside the door, I can hear Mom scolding Danny for what he said. Danny’s words were a bullet to the heart. “He did it. Everyone knows what he did.”

Truly, it wasn’t what he said, it was the utter confidence with which he said it. Just last week we had been playing on the swingset in the backyard without a care in the world. I never knew that one moment could so utterly ruin a life.

That’s all it was, one moment. One decision. One choice and no time to make it. I had acted and someone else paid the price.

The girl I’ve had a crush on since forever but never had enough courage to talk to her.

The girl that wears homemade clothes that look designer.

The girl whose smile can make the world stop and look.

She’s suffering and I can't even get out of bed to do something about it.

I’m as helpless as she is.

After a long time, the tears dried up again. I roll onto my other side, dully looking around at the darkness of my room. It’s a simple room, all my little trinkets that only days ago had brought me joy now sit there, mockingly. Memories of how it could have all gone.

My eyes slide to the knife that Dad had gotten me for Christmas when I was twelve.

I deserve this pain so much more than she does. I’ve caused so many people so much pain, maybe it would be better if I wasn’t here. With much more effort than it should have taken, I hauled my limp body off my bed and stumbled over to it. I fell against the wall and knocked over my lamp. My legs are asleep but I manage to stay standing.

“Honey, is that you?” Mom asks quietly from outside the door.

I swallow thickly, swallow my grief, and say what could be my last words. “Yeah, mom,” I croak. “It’s me.”

“Are you up Tony? I thought I heard something.”

In the same hoarse voice, I say, “I-I’m okay. Just… leave me alone.”

I hear her lay her hand against the door. “Okay, sweetie. I’m here if you need anything. We’re all here for you.”

Even Danny?

Her footsteps are soft as they tread down the hall. The knife feels heavy in my hand and sharp against my skin. My throat stings as it draws blood.

“Mom…”

*************

Jasmine:

I woke up alone in a hospital room. I’m told that I had been unconscious for days. The doctors didn’t think I was going to make it but they say I’m strong and I’m going to make it. I don’t remember that day, only a few seconds. A boy from my school, a shy kid that’s had a crush on me for years but never said anything about it, shoved me. I didn’t understand it… then I saw the car and the rest is a blur. I think that he pushed me out of the way but the X-rays the doctor showed me said otherwise. Broken ribs, a cracked skull, damaged spinal cord. I’ll need a lot of surgeries and physical therapy and I may never be able to walk again.

They told me all of this while my Mom and Dad were standing beside my bed, crying. They’re relieved that I’m alive. I’m not sure what I feel. The drugs that they've been pumping into me have kept me numb and asleep but they took me off them yesterday.

A soft knock on the door interrupted my thinking. “Come in,” I say.

The door opens and he’s standing there. His blond hair is messy and tangled, falling over his brown eyes. He’s wearing simple jeans and his t-shirt is on inside out as if he had dressed hurriedly. He looks like he was the one hit by a car. The only clean and nice-looking thing about him is the flowers he’s holding.

“Hey, Jasmine. I brought these for you,” the boy says, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

“There’s a vase over there,” I offer, pointing to the little blue vase on the table. The boy walked over to it and set the flowers in it, though I doubt it has any water in it. I squint at his back, trying to think of his name but coming up with nothing. The boy turns around and sees me looking. He looks away. I notice the bandage on his neck. Was he hurt by the car, too?

“I’m Tony. I-I wanted to see how you were doing after… what happened.” He grimaces, staring at the large window that takes up half a wall of the room.

“You saved me,” I say, struggling to recall what had happened. Tony lowers his head to the point where his chin is touching his chest.

“I didn’t, not really. All I did was push you then jump out of the way,” he says nervously, scuffing the ground with his foot. “I-I’ve been worried though. Are you okay?” I look at the IV leaking liquid food into my body as I can’t keep anything down. He winces as if he realized what he had said.

“No,” I answer honestly, “I don’t think I’ll ever be okay again. But I’m alive, thanks to you. You may not think it was much but it means the world to me. Thank you.” His face turns red and he scuffs the tile with his shoe again.

“Your welcome,” he says softly.