Lights flashed around in a blur. They didn't seem to be working right. Once the dark came there was no stopping it, screams echoed the stadium. Children ran looking for their mothers who just left them there and teachers pushed people over helplessly trying to hide. Everyone seemed to let fear get the best of them and forgot about their pride. They didn't even care who they left behind to die. No one did. Except for me.
Finally the lights flickered on enough to see the dim field.
A body lay motionless, covered in blood and lacrosse jersey torn apart. The boys face was flawless. No everything about him was flawless. He looked like perfection lying there.
No one moved.
Everyone knew who he was.
Students stood still. No, everyone stood still.
It was Jackson, my Jackson.
He was the boy who kissed me. The boy that always insulted me. The boy who liked to hurt me, the boy who broke my heart. The boy who I tried to hate but never could. He was the boy who betrayed me. He was the boy who gave me his lacrosse jersey in 3rd grade and the boy that stole from me and the boy who deflowered me. He was the boy I listened too, the boy that I love. And he was dying.
"Jackson," I whispered to no one is particular as everyone stood silent. I felt my bottom lip beginning to shake with realization. This was real. Jackson was dying. Right now, in our school's lacrosse field.
I stood in complete silence. I tried to process what was happening…but I couldn't. I thought that I could just ignore what was happening and pretend it wasn't real. I had too, I didn't know what else to do, or what to feel.
"Jackson," I whispered again as I began processing what had happened. I ran over to him and leaned over him. I grabbed his shoulders and began to shake them uncontrollably.
"Jackson? Jackson!?" I screamed at his lifeless body as I shook him even harder. I could feel the stares on my back, but I didn't care. I shook him senselessly until I couldn't take it anymore.
"Jackson wake the hell up! This isn't funny you bastard!" I screamed again.
Still no response.
I wanted to put my arms around him and cry into his chest and hear him say, 'It'll be okay Lydia.' But that wouldn't happen. It never would.
"Someone get McCalls mom!" I heard someone shout through the crowd.
I kept my eyes on Jackson though, waiting for his eyes to snap open and ask 'why the hell are you crying Lydia?'
But it didn't happen.
I waited.
And waited.
But no response.
"Everyone move I'm coming through." I heard Scott's mom shout as the crowd made a path for her to walk on, leading her to Jackson.
"Lydia hold his head up," I heard her say sharply as she quickly took off her jacket and sat down in front of Jackson.
"Is he okay?" I asked quietly.
"…He'll come through," I heard her hesitate before answering. She ripped open his jersey and looked away quickly and then began looking over his injuries.
I skimmed over his features and began to stop breathing. His beautiful pale skin was clawed through and blood was pouring out, too much blood.
It never stopped.
The blood kept going.
And going.
Like it wasn't running out.
And that's what scared me.
I put his head in my lap and bit my lip and put my hands over my ears tightly as Scott's mom pulled off his whole shirt.
I looked at his stomach and then quickly looked away. I couldn't handle this, I couldn't. But I had too. I had to be strong for Jackson.
I leaned over him and put both my hands gently on his face. He had to wake-up, no he had to wake me up.
"Jackson? If you can hear me, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I try to act perfect around you. I'm sorry I try to hate you all the time. I'm sorry I kept your key. I'm sorry that I act self-absorbed. I'm sorry. I'm sorry you met me Jackson. I really am." I cried into his ear. "Most of all I'm sorry I love you Jackson, I'm sorry."
I put my head in my hands and let tears stream down my face.
Red hood and the outlaws