Scars of The Mind

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
A terrible accident almost kills a 16 year old boy and does kill three of his friends.

A year later the boy is still trying to cope with the mental scaring and will do anything to make the pain go away. . .

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Submitted: March 11, 2009

A A A | A A A

Submitted: March 11, 2009



PART ONE: Survivor 

I never really spent much time thinking about Death before that night. To be honest I didn’t really spend that much time thinking about life either. It was just something that was there, like water or food. Something you took for granted. Well, something I took for granted anyway. I assumed life would be there for years. I would live to 89 and then it would just dissappear. I never thought I would have to chose between my life and anothers, that is something no one should have to do. 

I blame Todd. 

Todd got me into this mess. It was his idea to steal the car in the first place, of course it was, it was always his idea. Todd was the adventurer, Todd loved the risks, the girls loved it. The girls loved everything about Todd, his adventurous nature, his coolness, his looks. It made me sick. And because he was the cool one, his idea always seemed so much better than anyone elses. He asks if you want to nick a car. . . Of course you want to nick a car, it was Todd’s idea. If anyone else suggested it they would be mad. That’s why it was Todd’s fault. 

And Kenny backed him up. Of course he did. Kenny always backs Todd up. Especially when Todd is suggesting something dangerous. Kenny didn’t love adventure, he just wanted to do something reckless. He spent his whole life pushing the limits, throwing caution to the winds. Kenny was the fuck up of the group. He drank so much his liver probably died years before he ever would. And the weed meant he could never think straight. He did a load of weed, we never knew where the money came from. Yeah, Kenny was just as much to blame. 

Brian didn’t say anything. Of course he didn’t. Brian never said anything, especially when it came to Todd. Brian was the shy type, the sort that found it hard to make new friends and did whatever his current ones told him. He never talked to girls, and if one ever talked to him he would look like he was having a heart attack. He worshipped Todd and would never say a word against him. If he had had more guts then he could have told Todd to stop, it was obvious he thought it. He shouldn’t really have got into the car at all. Why did he? 

I’m passing the blame, of course I am. There was no way I wouldn’t have said no to getting into the car. I knew it was stupid, I knew it was dangerous, I knew it was wrong. But what could I say? It was a party, people were watching, I looked cool as I got into that car. If I hadn’t of got in I would have been a loser. I couldn’t have that, no way. But in the end, the cool kids were the losers. If only we’d seen that before hand. 

Of course it’s easy to blame Todd. It was his idea. He was driving. But in the end we were all to blame. We all got into that car. We all just wanted to look good. At the end of it all none of us had the guts to say what really we should have said. 

This is too dangerous. I’m not doing it. 

But passing up the chance to be cool was something none of us were going to do. None of us thought anything bad would happen. Maybe we would get caught, that would be the worst, but nothing life threatening. Todd was a good driver, even if he was only 16, only problem was, Todd was drunk. That was how it happened. That was how my three friends ended up dead. The nightmare of that night still wakes me up regularly at night. 

It’s almost as horrible as when it actually happened. . . 

* * * 

Brian was the only one to hesitate. The rest of us jumped into the car right away. For a second I thought that maybe Brian wouldn’t get in but after a couple of jeers from Kenny and Todd - both sitting up front - he dived into the back next to me. He looked about as nervous as I felt - very. 

It was an old car, a Ford something. The couple who owned it had left the keys in the ignition while they took the bags up to the house. A foolish mistake. Brian had just shut the door as the man appeared at the front door to his house. He rushed down towards us but it was already too late. 

I wasn’t expecting the car to start so suddenly and almost fell of my seat when Todd jammed his foot down on the peddle. Straight away almost hitting a lamp post. For several seconds neither me nor Brian could relax. Kenny was jeering up front, unable to sit still, too many drugs buzzing through him. Todd was relaxed and had a massive grin on his face. Seconds later I joined in. Why was I scared? Todd knew what he was doing. 

Or that’s how it seemed. 

We zoomed around a corner and Todd had to slam his feet on the brakes to stop himself from sliding off the road. We were back on track and we just swerved around another car causing a torrent of honking horns. Luckily for us the roads were quiet. It was, after all, one o’clock in the morning. Even if it was New Years Day not many people were driving around. 

It was when we slid around the next corner that it happened. Brian’s head banged off the window because of the speed and we all laughed at him. Todd and Kenny even turned around to do so. Brian put his head in his hands and I was the only one left facing the road, I was the only one who saw the lorry coming in the other direction. 

We smashed right into the front of it. . . 

* * * 

All three of them had been killed. Todd and Kenny had died instantly as the lorry had hit the front of the car, causing it to retract quickly under the sheer weight of the lorry that was so much bigger than it. The lorry driver had slammed on its breaks but it couldn’t stop before it had pushed the front of the car right up, crushing both Todd and Kenny. 

In the back seats me and Brian had a worse time. I had seen it coming but could do nothing. As it hit I was thrown forward and my head smashed off the back of Kenny’s chair. The chair then came all the way back at the same time as Todd’s crushing both mine and Brian’s legs quickly. But the chair kept coming. Brian was crushed and his skull cracked open. I should have died too. 

But I didn’t. 

I stayed in hospital for three months. Horrible nightmares of that night haunting me. There was nothing I could do to forget. It had been my fault. I had seen the lorry coming but had said nothing. I had allowed my friends to be crushed by a lorry, to be killed in a horrible way. And I had escaped with two horribly mangled legs and several heavy wounds across my chest. I didn’t deserve to live. 

At the time. I didn’t want to. 

PART TWO: Kill Or Be Killed

Almost a year after the accident. 31st December, 2008, 11:50am. I still haven’t forgotten. I will never forget. I will never get over it.

I have healed though. I have made a good recovery. I left the hospital after three months with several scars that would never go away, but everything apart from my legs was fine. I was in a wheel chair for three months after that. Slowly though I managed to get back on my feet, to start walking again. Now I still can’t run as it hurts too much but I can walk almost completely normally. 

So I can pass off as a normal person, but that doesn’t make me one. Over the last year I have completely withdrawn from the world. My three best friends in the world are dead and I soon stopped talking to the rest. I spend every waking minute I’m not at school in my room, alone. I want to be normal again, just a normal kid, but I don’t know if I ever can. How can I ever really be a normal kid again after what I have experienced. Maybe I just shouldn’t try. My grades have completely bombed, I have no friends, I have no life. 

I even considered suicide. Briefly. I always thought it was the chickens way out, but a couple of months after I left the hospital I was in my wheel chair and I met Sandra, Todd’s mum. She saw me in the street and headed straight for me, there was no escape, what could I do. She screamed at me, told me it was my fault her son was dead. She said she hated me and I deserved to die. She had to be dragged away. My mum told me that she was just greiving and I was the only one left to blame. But I know she’s lying. Because I am to blame. 

I stand up. Thinking hard, my parents are downstairs, drinking and laughing with friends. There’s no use for their lives to be over just because mine is. I open up Word on my lap top and start typing. The words flow fast and I know soon the tears will too. I can already feel one in the corner of my eye. Something I’m used to by now. 

A compulsive decision. Maybe one that’s been building up for a long time. Almost a whole year has passed since it happened. I make sure I have my watch on and the time is correct. Then I rush creep down the stairs, down to the hall. I can hear my parents laughing with their friends and now the tears really start. They run down my cheeks freely as I open the door and slide out. 

I can’t help but think about my parents as I go for my walk, what I have done to them. How what I did effected them so badly. After the accident they had to put their lives on hold as well, for over half a year. For the first two months they sat by my hospital bed almost every day. Willing me to be okay, then for months after that they helped me in any way they could. Mainly helping me to learn to walk again. Trying to help me become normal again, although they must have known that could never have happened. 

They had acted strong for me, trying to persuade me that they were okay, that they just wanted to help me, and I knew they loved me, but they weren’t holding up. They spent two months off work and then months afterwards rushing home the moment I called for them. My mother had lost her job and my father had come dangerously close to losing his. The loss of an imcome had effected them badly. 

And then there was their social lives. I wasn’t the only one who had lost friends. For six months they had been solely focused on me. They had stopped meeting up with old friends. I tried to persuade them to go out but they said they couldn’t leave me. They said it was fine. But it wasn’t. I often heard my mum on the phone telling her friends they couldn’t meet up. After a couple of months they had just stopped calling. 

Nothing had been alright. I had heard my mum crying many times, her situation was hopeless. My dad tried to comfort her but he was always on the verge of tears himself. They tried to hide it around me but it was impossible. They were the best parents in the world but they were only human. They couldn’t keep up the act all the time. They often had to make excuses and rush out of the room. That was the worst part, I hadn’t just ruined my live. I had ruined theirs too. 

After around ten months they had finally started building bridges with their friends. Maybe they had decided to give up on me. They had tried to get me to socialise with the other kids. The “normal kids” but I couldn’t. Not after what I had done. I could see the acusations in their eyes. Or sometimes the interest - I was the sole survivor of the accident that had killed three people, I was full of interesting stories - that was even worse than the accusations that it was my fault, that they thought I would just spill the story of what had happened, as if it was some awesome story. The thought of it made me sick. 

I turn a corner and look down a road. I’ve found what I’m looking for. Down the road is a man and a wife are getting out of their car, back from a late night party. The woman is drunk and the man has to go around the car to help her. I move quickly forward and jump straight into the man as he reaches his wife. They both fall over and the keys go flying. I grab them and rush around the car, jumping into the drivers side I start it up before the man has even got up. I’m too determined to screw this up. 

I drive the car carefully at first. I know what I need to do and a mistake with my driving now could mess this all up. Tears are running freely and I’ve never driven a car before. I guess now I’ll never get the chance. I’ll never get the chance to do anything I’d always dreamed of doing before the crash last year. But I know I wouldn’t get the chance to live them out now anyway. I know that my life is over and has been for a long time. 

I should have died a year ago today. It’s 1:08 in the morning, in two minutes it will be exactly a year ago that my friends all died. I should have gone with them, and now I’m going to. Better late than ever. I pull onto the road that it happened on and stop the car. Looking ahead I see the point where it happened. That was the point where I died. That is the truth of it. I died a year ago. My soul left that day, my body just hung around. It’s time for my body to go too. 

Crying fills the car as I see a lorry turn into the road. They come down here a lot. I should have remembered that, if I had then this wouldn’t of happened. My friends would be okay. I would be okay. My parents would be okay. 

I wonder if my parents have read my note. If they have then they know what’s going to happen. I know they will understand eventually. I am doing this for them as well as me. I want to save them. I want to stop myself from dragging them down. That’s why I have to do this. 

My foot presses onto the peddle. Suicides a sin. Maybe I’ll go to hell. 

I don’t care. Every day. Every night. I am forced to watch that car crash through my friends eyes. Watch as the life leaves them. It’s the worst form of hell and nothing could ever be worse than that. Anything now will be a relief. I just want out. I need out. 

The lorry’s horn honks. Did the last lorry do that? I don’t remember. The last lorry driver survived without much injury. It’s simple. Massive lorry + small car = limited damage to big lorry while totalled little car. There is no way I’d risk hurting anybody else. 

This is it. 

This is my redemption. 

A smile crosses my face as the car smashes into the lorry. 

It’s all over.

© Copyright 2020 amthompson. All rights reserved.

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