“PTSD”

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: November 19, 2019

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Submitted: November 19, 2019

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My name is “Blake timberwall.” I suffer from a very bad case of “PTSD” post traumatic stress disorder.” A couple of days ago I was with my brother driving along the freeway when we saw a car in front of us loose a tire. The car pulled over. 

We pulled over too. My brother told me no matter what stay out in the car because the highway was a dangerous place to be. I sat in my seat as I watched him look into the side mirrors and then he opened up his car door and closed it and ran in front of the car and getting off the road. I approached the car and asked the driver if he needed a hand. The man was generous and said he could use help. 

He said he needed the car tire that was now lying in the middle of the highway. I told him it was dangerous but he just argued and he ran out in the road when it was safe and pushed the tire back. This tire was a gift from my wife. She died from cancer last month so it was important. He explained to me. I told him I was sorry to hear about that and helped him eat the tire in the back of the car. 

While we were replacing  his tire. Three semi trucks came flying by us inches away going at least 80 Miles. I flinched. “Don’t be afraid cars are Not going to hit you unless you give them a reason..Just don’t.” *i nodded* just then I heard my brothers voice. I yelled “Stay in the car.” He was always in the car. 

When we were done with the tire I saw a semi truck coming, I froze as I saw the semi had lost control. The back tire was flat and I saw nuts and bolts fly off. “Shit!” “SSSAAAAMMMM” I shouted. To late the semi slammed into my car going at least  80 Miles. My car was Flat. 

I called the police they came with the jaws of life. No luck. Sam was Dead. If I didn’t stop if I just ignored that mans car Sam would still be alive. My parents told me it wasn’t my fault I did what was right I helped a person in need and told my brother to stay in the car. We had the funeral the next week. 

During church I saw my brother train at me in front of his coffin “Why why did we stop?” He asked. I started to shake and said “I’m sorry! I’m sorry Sam.” I ran out of the church in the middle of the service. I’ve seen Sam in my dreams for the last few nights asking the same question “Why did we stop?” Why did I stop? I asked myself. 

I broke down. There was a knife in my bedroom. I grabbed it and put it against my throat. I saw my brother again his time he was chanting “Do it Do It!” I dropped the knife as my mom walked in the room. We called up a hospital and I checked myself in. About an hour later after I met the doctors I went inside my padded room. 

The doctor said “Everything will be alright.” And slammed the door leaving me in a straight jacket alone with my thoughts. I herd crying I turned around there was a message written on the wall.

 “Why did we stop?”


© Copyright 2020 Nick meraglio. All rights reserved.

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