Why?

 

Why?

One-shot

Written by: chochowilliams

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved.

Summary: “You don’t understand,” I hear myself say.  “My parents, my sister, my friends…they’re all dead.”

Warning: Short, Dark, Horror, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Death, Thoughts of/Attempted suicide, Happy ending

Pairings: Unnamed OC/OMC Jessie

Inserts: --

A/N: This is a dark piece that I wrote many, many years ago. I didn’t do much editing to it, so please excuse any problems you may find with it (including the ending). I was but an amateur novice at the time I wrote this.

{oOo}

I

Smoke.  It’s burning my eyes, making me cough hysterically.  My eyes water.  Can’t stop the tears that are coming!  Fire!  I can see it.  Smell it, hear the wood crackle, and sizzle.  It’s coming closer!  And closer!  Only a few feet away!

The smoke is upon me.  If I could say one last thing to my family, I would say, “Sorry Mother, Father, for being so bad.  Sorry Sis for being so cruel and mean…”

The tears aren’t because of the smoke.  Or because of fear of dying.  They flow because of fear of loss and regret.  The fire engulfs me and I scream at the sight.  Not because of pain--my body had gone numb long ago from fright.

“Mommy, Daddy, Sis!  Help!”  I cry.  I can hear their voices calling me from somewhere.  Then everything fades to darkness…

When I open my eyes, I see white.  A hospital?  Or Heaven?  A doctor comes in.  I’m all right!  I try to speak, but it hurts.  Tears of joy run down my face.  My mommy, daddy, sister.  Are they okay?  I want to ask the doctor.

“You’re fine.  But you inhaled a lot of smoke in your lungs and it damaged your voice box a little.  You’ll be fine and able to speak in a few weeks.  As for your family…”

His voice trails off, but I know what he means.  I close my eyes.  The smoke, the fire, the horror.  My loss is tragic.  Not because of my house or to me, but my loss in my heart.  No parents anywhere.  No sister…

Why?  Why am I alive?  Shoot me!  Why didn’t I die?  My loss is tragic.  Deep inside a space is not filled.

Fire, smoke, everywhere I look. 

I hear them everywhere.  Shouting out my name.

Tears start to flow.  Tears of loss and regret.  The horror is with me always.  Why?  Why didn’t I die?

II

A corner.  I see a corner, but only a glimpse of it for “Bob” is going so fast.  Too fast for my comfort.

I tell him to slow down, but he just brushes it aside.  He’s drunk!  God!  Help me!

“Stop him!  Please, tell him to slow down!” I yell at the other passenger.  He doesn’t listen.  It’s as if he’s made of stone.  No one listens.  A car is coming in the other lane.  I realize that “Bob” is in their way.  I yell at him to move, but he just grins an ugly smile.

The other car stops and so does “Bob”.  They reverse their cars and as “Bob” steps on the gas, I fly backward in my seat.  Oh no!  Not Chicken.  The next thing I remember is screaming as our cars meet head on…

I open my eyes to see a white light.  Did I die?  No.  Just a hospital.  I sigh with regret.  I look at myself, and then I look in a mirror opposite my bed.  My head is wrapped, and so are an arm and a leg. 

A doctor comes in saying, “I’m sorry to say that your two friends didn’t make it.”

I close my eyes and tears start to flow.  Tears of loss and regret.  Why?  Why didn’t I die?  Why did they die and not I?  The scene suddenly flashes to me and I groan as I remember.

As we hit, “Bob” and his friend fly through the windshield.  I’m trapped in the car and yelling, “Help me!  Please!  Mama, Daddy!”  But my cries are useless.  They’re dead.  “Someone please help me!  I’ll be good, I swear!”

My wish and plea were granted, but why am I crying?  My friends.  They’re dead.  Why am I alive and not they?  I think to myself that their lives weren’t worth it.  They were drunk and wouldn’t listen to a sober friend.  Still, they were my friends.  On the other hand, they were dumb not to listen.  Too stoned to pay attention to what was right.

But why did they have to die, and not I?  Why God am I alive?

III

Wind is blowing through my hair and up my arms.  Making me shiver.  But the wind isn’t cold.  It’s actually warm.  So why am I shivering? I ask myself.

I know why.  Because of what is going to happen.

Down below is traffic.  The highway is like an ant’s highway, so far below.  Cars, trucks and jeeps.  They are going to and from places.  Horns are blowing impatiently.

Perfect, I thought.  I could die in a matter of seconds.  Yes!  But I hesitate for some reason.  Move it!  Just take one more step! I shout to myself.

Why can’t I do it?  My parents, my sister, my friend “Bob” and his friend are dead.  Why?  Why should I hesitate?

If I take one more step, I could be with them.  So why can’t I do it?

“Step down.  Please.  It’s not worth it.  Please.  I love you.”

A voice from behind me pleads.  I turn around slowly.  Jessie?  He cares? I ask myself.  But there he is.  With his arms outstretched, and pleading with me not to jump.

“You don’t understand,” I hear myself say.  “My parents, my sister, my friends…they’re all dead.”

He says that they wouldn’t like it if I were to jump.  They would like me to live out my life to the fullest. 

I fully understand what he is saying, but find myself saying to him, “Why?  Why am I alive and they dead?  Why?”  So many questions fill my head as I watch, as if from a distance, climb down from the railing and run to his outstretched arms.

Why?  Why didn’t I jump?

Because I knew I would be letting people who loved me down.

There will be no more sorrow, loss or regret.  I still have sadness in my heart, but I have to go on.

That’s why…

{o The O End o}

A/N: Dear Lord! I cringe every time I read this. I itch to go back and edit it. So, despite the obvious--problems, what did you think?