SELF SACRIFICE
Richelle Rowney
The street was alive with noise. The vibrant thrum of car engines, the rustling of people's clothes as they passed by one another, like the rustling of leaves on a tree. All the constant and continuous everyday sounds of a city street. But for the teenager with the raven black hair there was none of this. His ears were full with the heavy tones of the rock music blasting from his ipod, the pounding of his feet against the pavement and the thud, thud, thud of his heartbeat.
For this teen, the world, the cars, the people, they were nothing. To him the despair driven reality of his thoughts was, for the moment, his life. The dark and depressing attitude of his songs were a desperately sought refuge, a place for him to hide away his heart when holding his head high became torture.
Confused and gloomy lyrics drowned out the sounds of parental voices, yells and screams tearing at each other, like two wolves fighting over a piece of meat. The familiar smack of flesh on flesh echoing in his head was muted by pained words and sentences formed by the singers gravelly voice.
So tuned into his music was the raven teen, his key to forgetting if only for small amounts of time, he never saw the four wheel drive speeding towards him as he unknowingly wandered onto the road. He didn't hear the squealing of brakes as the vehicle tried to stop, he didn't hear the yells of the people on the path. But he did feel a body ramming into his back, knocking him down onto the tar.
Angrily, the black haired teenager pulled himself up, removing his earphones as he swung around, only to be greeted with utter chaos. People were crying and screaming. A red four wheel drive was smashed into a nearby pole, the driver still seated inside, shaken but seemingly unhurt. And there, lying on the ground, crimson slowly spreading and tainting the tar about him, was a blond haired boy, about the same age as the raven.
The blonds' angelic, sky-blue eyes were locked onto the black haired boy's own dark orbs, trapping him with the innocence and affection radiating from the gaze. And the blond was smiling at him, unworried by all the tumult and blood. Unsteadily the raven moved forward to kneel beside the broken blond.
The broken blond he knew.
This blond attended his school.
This blond was in his year.
This blond was his classmate.
This blond was his friend.
The raven was always goading this blond, always calling him idiot, always pushing him to be better, to do better. And the blond returned the favour. He was the only one who knew exactly which of the ravens buttons to push. He was the one person who knew how to make the raven happy or sad, angry or calm. He treated the raven like an equal, instead of a prize to be won due to his top marks, athletic abilities, good looks, and rich social status. The blond was the boy who was always there. They were rivals in all they did, always competing against each other and yet there was no friendship anywhere that could be better than theirs.
"Oi, bastard," the blond boy whispered weakly.
The raven snapped his eyes down to those pure ones of the blonds.
"You idiot! You saved me and now you're dying! Why would you do that, my life's not worth it!" the raven asked angrily, tremors present in his voice.
"I couldn't let you die."
"Yes you could, and you should have."
"No, I couldn't"
The finality of the blonds tone rendered the raven speechless for s short while, before he shakily inquired, "why?"
The blond chuckled breathlessly, "Because you're my friend, my only friend. You know, I almost died once. It was right before I met you. I'm an orphan with no family, I live by myself and I have no friends save you. I was always on the receiving end of taunts and beatings. And so I decided I wanted to die, it was all too much. The morning of the day I had chosen, I attended school like any other day, with only one major difference, I was all prepared for when I would take my life that night. Then you transferred to this school," the blonds explanation was cut off hastily as he coughed into his hand, scarlet drops staining his palm.
"Anyway," the blond continued as if he wasn't bleeding, "I met you, and my life changed. You treated me like a person, like an equal, like a friend. You made me feel important, as if I actually did have a place in the world and my life wasn't a mistake. I was indescribably happy, and so I changed my mind about suicide. You saved my life, so I returned the favour."
The blond smiled widely and happily at the raven, even as the raven exclaimed, "But you're dying!"
"Yeah I am, but I don't care. I couldn't let you die, you're my friend, my best and only friend and the gift you gave me, our friendship, is too important to me to let you die. And hey, self sacrifice seems like a pretty good way of saying I love you don't you think? I'll see you again later…." The blonds eyes slid closed, hiding his periwinkle blue irises from the world forever, as their light slowly faded.
The raven cried.
Something he was not accustomed to doing, having not done so for the longest time. But the overwhelming loss he felt was enough to encourage the droplets to break free of their prison and run wildly.
It was there, kneeling next to the still body of his friend, who used to exude life like a tap, tears never ending, that he knew, just knew, the almost incomprehensible loneliness and sadness, the indescribable pain the raven felt at the loss of the person who made him feel real, made him feel like himself, would be ever present in his heart until his own fatal demise. But he would live on; through all the pain he would continue to live on. Not for himself but for the blonde; for his best friend.