Running For You

I still remember that night vividly. I had just gotten home late from cross-country practice. I'd put down my bag, kicked off my shoes, and stretched out across my bed. Like most nights, I had my phone out, ready to spend the next hour or two scrolling through social media.

However, as soon as I turned on my phone, notifications for missed calls filled my screen. Apparently my best friend Kate had been desperately trying to contact me three hours ago, but I didn't know because of the rule Coach had about phones during practice–three texts and you’re out.

There were two texts as well, I realized as I scrolled down. They read, "Hey, Jess! Can we talk?" and ten minutes later, "Jess, I really need to tell you something. Do you have a minute?"

Suddenly, I recall receiving this last text right after practice ended. I felt the buzz and was just about to pull out my phone when in that moment, my biggest crush and the school's all-time greatest jock, Daniel Jeffrey, made eye contact with me.

As he walked up to me, my heart pounded furiously and the thought of checking my phone completely vanished from my mind. We ended up talking for a little over two hours and everyone had already left by then. I was so ecstatic that he even knew my name let alone was having a conversation with me, and it felt like I had known him forever and could share anything with him! I was over the moon when we finally parted ways, so I was not prepared for what would happen next.

Kate’s mom, Susan, rang our doorbell an hour after I arrived home. Surprised, I scrambled out of bed and ran to open the door–she almost never came over to our house, so that’s when I started having a sinking feeling in my stomach.

My intuition proved to be correct. Kate had killed herself two hours ago and was found in her room with empty pill bottles scattered around her. That was just an hour after her last attempt to contact me.

I don’t remember much after that other than the fact I collapsed to the ground, breaking down into sobs. As she and my mother moved to comfort me, I pushed them away, overwhelmed with waves of guilt–Kate had needed someone to talk to, someone to confide in, while she was going through the darkest and worst moments of her life. She chose me, but I wasn’t there for her. Blinded by the stinging tears in my eyes, I had stumbled up the stairs into my room and slammed the door shut.

I could hear Kate’s mom bawling downstairs from my bedroom for the next couple hours, my mother quietly comforting her, before she finally left. I supposed she also needed someone to be there for her, just as her daughter had needed me.

* * *

I am now in bed where I’ve been staying for the past week or so–I haven’t left the room except to go to the washroom. I’ve been so wracked with guilt, my self-loathing is weighing me down, and the knowledge that I could’ve prevented her death is eating me alive.

I can’t get up.

I’m forced to lie in my bed, replaying that night over and over in my head, imagining different scenarios that would result in her still being alive.

...But it’s too late.

I bury myself into my covers further. “I’ll just stay here until the day I die.” I mumble to myself, miserably. “I deserve it, anyway.”

Suddenly, my blankets are yanked away from my body and I feel a rush of cool morning air. My mother is standing over me, hands on hips and an assertive expression on her face.

“Get up.” She commands. She announces that I can’t continue like this any longer and drags me out of bed. After much nagging and pushing, I am finally out the door and walking to school for the first time since her suicide. I feel like a ghost floating along the road, though.

As I trudge lifelessly through the school halls, I am certain that everyone behind me is staring holes into my back, knowing and accusing me for Kate’s death. I don’t blame them though–just thinking about my horrible self sends a fresh wave of nausea.

I start breathing fast and my heart starts beating faster. I have to get out of here, I think anxiously. I step out of the hallway into a room, just as the bell rings. Luckily, I happen to be in the right class.

I take a seat and pull out my notebook when the teacher walks in. He seems to look straight at me, and I feel myself getting lightheaded. I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. I tell myself I’m getting paranoid, but there is still the unshakable feeling of having to throw up.

I guess the teacher saw the pale look on my face and decided he’d rather not have to clean my breakfast off the floor after class, as he offered me a washroom pass. 

I snatch it out of his hands. Down the hallways I run, vomit burning and threatening to come up my throat at any moment. Just as I reach the door of the washroom, I feel a soft vibration from my back pocket.

I pull out my phone and see a single text from Daniel. It reads, “How are you? I haven’t seen you around school lately, so I hope you’re doing okay. Can you meet me in the field right now? I really need a friend to talk to right now.”

It takes a moment for it to sink in.

When it does, my heart pounds. My vision wavers as I look over the text again. An overwhelming feeling of déjà vu surrounds me, and I gasp for air. I am going to be sick.

Could I be reading too much into this? But better safe than sorry...right? In that moment, I feel that fate has given me a second chance, a possibility to redeem myself.

But what if I’m too late? What if what I’m thinking isn’t even the case? Will he think I’m a fool? Will he laugh at me, or criticize me once he knows what my role was in Kate’s death? Will he not like me after that? 

Indecision tears me apart, all while I struggle not to heave up all that’s in my stomach. I feel like my brain is going to explode with the weight of what I’m facing.

Finally, I take a deep breath. Chest heaving and with shaking hands, I slide the phone back into the pocket of my jeans. As I force my breakfast down for the last time, it is clear in my mind what I have to do. I catch my breath and turn around and sprint as fast as I can towards the exit to the field.