Watch me die

I can’t get his blood stains out of my shirt. 

It’s weird the things you remember as you watch someone die. Some parts of that day are forever lost to me. I don’t remember what time I woke up that morning. I don’t remember what I ate for breakfast. I don’t remember what song was playing on the radio as I was getting ready to leave the house. I don’t even remember whether the taxi hooted.

But I do remember the dull thud as the taxi struck Rhys. I remember seeing his body sail through the air, limp like a ragdoll. I remember his eyes were wild with fright and pain. I remember the sharp crack as his head split open and red oozed from his head. 

I remember that I was paralysed with shock, frozen in place.

It felt like someone had suddenly and unexpectedly submerged my world into a vat of molasses. Movements of the people milling around Rhys looked slow and deliberate. Their shouts were drawn and unclear out like an overplayed record. My limbs were heavy and refused to co-operate. I stood glued to the spot, impotent, as others called ambulances and tried to keep Rhys awake. A woman was shouting something at me. Her mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water, but the tinnitus in my ears kept her words from making sense. 

The ambulance came to collect Rhys. I was ushered into a nearby car and we drove behind the ambulance to the nearest hospital. I can’t remember who the driver was or what we spoke about on the way to the hospital. He filled in the paperwork as I was bundled into a waiting room and Rhys was wheeled into the Accident and Emergency ward.

Rhys and I were best mates. We met in reception when we were little tykes. We lived close enough to each other to spend our days playing in the copse that separated our houses, without much concern from either set of parents. We built forts from scrap pieces of wood and my mum’s linen. She wasn’t too happy about that. We whittled wood figurines with his mother’s kitchen knives, much to her chagrin. We tried to skip rocks in the stream that ran through the woods. Dexterity, or lack thereof, prevented us from skipping them with any degree of success. 

One summer, Rhys dared me to climb the highest tree in the woods. Not one to back out of a dare, I did. I was too afraid to climb back down and my dad had to call the fire department to bring a really long ladder to help me down. It earned me a stern talking to from the local fire department and merciless teasing from Rhys for the rest of the summer.

As we grew, so did our interests. Instead of playing in the woods, we saved up our pocket money and bought a shed that we used as a clubhouse. We placed it in the copse, near the stream. We wrote a club charter and designed a flag and invited some school friends to join our club- boys only, no girls allowed. Each member had to pay their dues, which was 50 pence and a snack to contribute to the club’s stores. We didn’t do much as a club and eventually, our numbers dwindled back to the original two- Rhys and I. It didn’t bother us much because we got on better with each other than with school chums anyway. The summer after we started our club, the area flooded and swept our clubhouse away. Rhys and I were heartbroken.

For my fourteenth birthday, my parents bought me an Xbox. Both Rhys and I were delighted. He spent most weekends at my house where we’d spend countless sleepless hours in front of the television, taking part in tournaments and trash-talking opposing players. Those weekends, only grace and sugar kept us from keeling over with exhaustion. 

At 16, Rhys and I discovered something that we so vehemently detested in our tween years. Girls. Our every waking hour, when not being taken up by mundanities such as school and chores, was dedicated to analysing, critiquing, and wondering about the actions of the fairer sex. Lisa volunteered to be my partner in science class. Did that mean she liked me? Darcy sent Rhys a private snap on Snap Chat. Did that mean she had a crush on Rhys? 

My reserved, introverted nature was eclipsed by his charisma. His friendly, gregarious nature drew scores of people to him everywhere he went. At a party, he could be found on the dance floor entertaining the lads or charming the most beautiful girl in the room. He was the life of the party. I was a little bit envious of his natural way with people. 

He quickly found a girlfriend. Her name was Hailey. She was a bubbly blonde girl who regularly hosted parties at her parents’ house. The parents were never home. To this day, I don’t know where her parents went every weekend or whether they even knew Hailey was hosting raucous high school ragers. Unfortunately, their love was like a supernova. It burned incredibly bright and hot but fizzled into a devastating emotional black hole.

Soon our school careers were coming to a close. We were focussing on A-levels and university applications. Rhys wanted to become a barrister. and applied to study law at every university that offered law. I think he even applied to New York University. I wanted to study accountancy at one university only-St. Andrews in Scotland. 

Rhys had received an acceptance letter from a university in London on the last day of school. He was ecstatic. I received my letter from the University of St Andrews a few weeks later, saying they’d be “delighted” to have me study with them.

It was the summer before we went off to university. We were young and carefree. 

Then one afternoon, we didn’t see the taxi come speeding down the road. Now my best friend is gone, his life cut short by an accident.

And I can’t get his bloodstains out of my shirt.