Thursday, 24 March 2011
11:09:22 PM (GMT)
I knocked on the apartment door, then noticed a note in Sam's handwritting. Thats
just it. Sam's handwritting. The sloppiest, most unreadable writting there could be
for an eleventh grader. I turned the doorknob, unlocked. I let myself in. "Tylar?"
I asked in a loud voice. "Are you home?" There were boxes everywhere from where he
and Sam had been moving in. I heard slight sobbing. I followed the sound to the
bathroom, where the door was open just a crack. "Tylar?" I pushed the door fully
open. Out of all the horror movies I had ever watched, nothing prepared me for what
Tylar was on the floor, one arm proped up on the side of the bathtub, there was
blood trickling down his arm. My mouth dropped when he looked up at me,
surprisingly, apart from the obvious tears streaming down, he was smiling. There
were burns all over his right arm. The medicine cabinate was slung apart, and there
were open pill bottles scattered on the floor. "Tylar!" I choked out, my voice
cracking, "Tylar, what happened?!" I motioned towards him. "Sto-. Stop. Don't
com-. No closer," he said raising his right arm. In his hand he held a razor and
placed it on his left wrist. I knew what he was meaning to show. "Don't. I'll do
it. I wil-." he could bearly speak. It broke my heart to see him like this.
Suddenly, he coughed, he choked up blood.
I was crying like a baby at this point. "Why?" I whispered tears still flowing.
He looked down then back up at the bathtub full of water. "Beca-. Because," he
started to explain, "I just wante-. Wanted to be loved. For who. For who I am." I
saw he was too weak to talk. "Please, Tylar, let me call 911! Please!" he shook
his head his hair falling in his face. I stepped foward, but he jolted his head back
to his arm. I stopped and backed up. "Tylar, you are loved. I love you!" I wiped
my face with my sleeve. He lightly said no. I dropped to my knees. "You don't have
to do this! Let me help you," walking on all fours I grabbed a rag. Knowing not to
go any closer, I tossed it his way. He didn't move. "You are loved," I finally
said, "Ruth loves you. Faun may not show it but he does too! Sam and Samantha
love you. Paula loves you. The whole squad loves you. I love you."
He looked at me with his deep grey eyes. He started crying again and shook his
head. His rested his right arm down on his knee. I stared at him, still weeping,
hoping my words had some kind of meaning to him. He shook his head and said, "It
isn't ri-. Not right." Slowly, I had been moving towards him. He glanced at me and
told me to move back and made a failed attempt to raise his arm. I got the message,
stood and walked back to the door. "Please, Tylar, hear me out! I love you with all
my heart. There are so many people who do. Theres bunches of people who care for
you so much." He said no again. I wiped my nose with my sleeve and my eyes with the
back of my hand.
He lowered his left arm slightly and let it drop in his lap like he had no control
over it. Then I saw it had many cuts on it. I looked back at the floor, at the
empty pill bottles. "Did you take these?" I asked concerned. He just looked at me
then back at his lap. "Tylar! Did you take these!?" I said louder than meaning to.
He nodded. "I need to get you help." Just as I was turning he held up his left
hand in protest, not saying anything. I stopped and watched. "We're losing time! I
need to call an ambulance!" I pointed at my watch for effect. Slowly I started
walking towards him. "Stop. Ple-," he said holding his hand up again, "No clos-
closer!" he lowered his arm, turned it over to his wrist and placed the blade on it.
Still, I didn't stop. He slowly and lightly said no once more then as quick as his
weak body let him he gashed his wrist. He fell to the side and hit the edge of the
bathtub, the water splashed up a little.
"NO!" I screamed and ran, my legs collapsing just when I reached him. I grapped
the rag, wrapped it around his arm, and layed his head in my lap. "No, Tylar no.
Not like this! Oh, not this way! No, oh God no!" I held him and rocked back and
forth. "Please, stay with me." He looked up at me. He was concence, northeless
still alive! He had to be in pain. His face was turning a pale purple and I was
covered in his blood. "HELP!SOMEONE! HELP!" I screamed hoping somebody would hear.
I beat on the wall behind me. His mouth parted and he stuttered out, "I am. I am
so sor-ry." I nodded my head to show I understood. I was sobbing all over him. I
couldn't help it. My best friend was dying, in my arms, and there was nothing I
could do. I forced a smile and hugged him tightly. "I lov-" I shook my head and
told him not to speak. He raised his right arm and with his fingers made '1, 4, 3'.
The numericals for I love you. "I love you, too. I love you, too Tylar." He closed
his eyes and his head dropped to one side. I kept crying.
Memories raced through my mind, and I felt happy thinking of them. Then I snapped
back to reality and saw his lifeless body still in my arms. No, I thought to myself.
I started beating on the wall behind me with my elbow again. I was determined to
get someone to help me. I didn't want to leave Tylar, even though there was probably
no chance, I kept hope. The smell of blood lingered in the room and I still had him
in my arms, rocking back and forth. About three hours later, I heard the door open,
but couldn't drag myself to yell. My throat hurt from screaming earlier, my face and
nose were raw from crying. "Tylar, man, what did you do? It smells worse than
before, dude!" Sam's voice was a reliving sound to my ears. I tried to call him to
the bathroom, but I just couldn't. The best I could I beat my shoe on the floor and
hit the side of the bathtub. "Yo," Sam said, "I ain't mad at you, just come out!"
I heard Sam's semi-heavy footsteps getting farther away, I started hitting the
bathtub again, I heard him stop walking. Then his steps got closer. I looked at
Tylar. "You're gonna be fine," I said to him, secretly knowing in the back of my
mind he couldn't hear me.
"Dude, where are you!?" he started to sound irritated. I then saw a shadow form on
the floor. I followed it all the way to Sam's feet, then I slowly looked up at Sam,
holding Tylar out like I was giving a gift. My eyes felt heavy, and hard to keep
open. Sam's mouth dropped and his hand came up to cover it then dropping it to his
side. He started walking towards Tylar and I with his arms held out, nearly tripping
on a pill bottle. He knelled down next to me. I felt like I was gonna cry again,
but as if I had wasted all the water in my body, no tears would flow. I looked up at
Sam again, and stared him straight in the eyes. "Help?" I asked in a low, pitiful
Stuttering he asked, "Bekka, what," he motioned his hand in front of Tylar's closed
eyes, "what happened?" He tried taking Tylar but I said no the best I could. He
paused and looked away. He picked up a bottle and read the words across it.
"Anti-depression medication?" he let it drop from his hand. He covered his eyes and
startered shaking his head. He looked at me, his face looked as if it were sorting
through tons of question trying to find the correct one to ask first. "Did you
know?" he asked carefully.
"Know what?" I replied in a tiny voice. He grabbed one of my hands and then
released it, "Did you know he took these for his 'emotional problems'? Were you
aware he was this sad?!" I shook my head no. Before I could say anything he
screamed, loudly. He stood up and kicked the wall, and started stomping. He pulled
his own hair. I didn't know what to do, so I just looked back at Tylar. "No!
Why!?" he yelled at the top of his lungs. Then, with a sploshing sound, he stepped
in Tylar's blood that covered the floor. Oddly, that seemed calm Sam down. He
closed his eyes and sat again. He mumbled things to himself. "Why?" he whispered
over and over. He gently stroked Tylar's cold, pale cheek and he started sobbing
real loudly, and didn't he stop to whip away his tears. "Call a doctor. Call 911,"
I said in an low, but firm voice, "I don't care who you call, just somehow reach the
hospital or something!" He looked at the bathtub, "Go!" I demanded hoarsly.
He stood up and walked out of the room, fiddling with his fingers. "You're gonna be
okay. You're fine." I had to of seemed crazy, talking to a dead person, but in some
way, it comforted me. Time seemed to slow down and every second was like and hour to
me. Finally, Sam came back into the bathroom, and said they were on their way.
They? They who? Thoughts just raced and I tried to avoid eye contact with Sam. He
didn't ask or say anything until parametics rushed in. A woman with dark brown hair
pinned up in a ponytail tried to take Tylar out of my arms while a man in a suit
talked to Sam, it got so loud to me. Sam just kept shaking his head and saying 'I
don't know, I don't know.' with accational shruggs following. I looked up in the
womans face, she seemed cold and pitiless. She wore a name tag that said Stacy and
she had on plastic gloves. She struggled to take Tylar, but odd enough, I just
wouldn't let go. I found myself in a game of human tug-of-war with a person who was
only trying to help.
"Leslie, come give me some assistance." she said in a monotone voice. Not long
after she said that, a tall man came in. He had gloves on too, but no name tag.
"Look," he said in a rough voice reaching for Tylars hand, "we need to get him to the
hospital." He gave me a smile but I saw through it. I said nuh-uh and his smile
dropped quickly. He got on this knees and gave Tylar a swift jerk. "Stacy," he
said. Stacy observed him, "I think he's still alive, he has a very slow pulse, and
he's lost a lot of blood, but by God, I think he's living!"
This man's words gave my heart a small amount of joy, I loosened
my hold on Tylar, not meaning to. When I did so, the man motioned Stacy over and
together they pryed Tylar out of my arms. Like in a dramatic movie, I raised my arm
out to them. I stayed, sitting on the floor. The suited man who questioned Sam
walked towards me with a pen and a note pad. I saw police come in with Ruth and
Tyler's step-dad Faun. Ruth was crying but Faun didn't break his awful glare. The
man, with his pen in hand, asked me my name. "Rebekka Condore," I answered. "So,
Rebekka," he said quicker than I had replied, "What did you see?"
I remained still, looking at my hands, visualizing Tylar still in my arms. "Bekka,"
I corrected, "and I saw him here. In this very spot," I motioned my arms around
for effect, the man wrote down every single word I said. "He was crying. And he had
burns and cuts on his arms. The bathtub, it was like it is now, full of water. The
bottles, on the floor now, were already open and they were empty." Every other
sentence I said, he nodded and scribbled down my words. "Go on, what else did you
see? No, tell me exactly what happened, details." he gave me a half-hearted smile
to ease my sadness, but it only made me angry. "He had a razor on his wrist and
threatened to cut himself if I came closer to him," I said through clenched teeth.
"I did my best to stay put, but he was hurting and I could see it. I begged him to
let me call for help, I started walking to him and he, he," I couldn't finish my
sentence. I clutched my knees to my chest and rocked back and forth, back and forth.
"Go on, what did he do?" the man said nodding and writting away. I looked up at
him. "He slit his wrist. Very deep." I said, but still, no tears came. "What
else?" the man stopped waiting for me to talk again. "Nothing. That's it."
The man looked disappointed, he stood up and walked out the bathroom. I sat there,
drenched in tears and blood. My clothes clung to my body. My hair was damp from
where I been sweating out of nervousness. Ruth walked in and started wailing, "My
baby! My poor baby!" I didn't do anything. About two hours later, I still sat in
the same exact place. Still drenched in blood. Slowly, going crazy. I had watched
my friend -best friend- kill himself. Who wouldn't be crazy by now? His picture
hung on the wall in the front room. I wanted to go retrieve it and hug the frame
but I couldn't move. I couldn't force myself to.