Never Be the Same Ch.1
Blood, blood, blood. Everywhere. I put my hand over my mouth, nausea getting the better of me. I couldn't make my legs move, because I was frozen. With shock? Fear? Either way the guy in front of me was bleeding out and I was doing absolutely nothing to save him.
*flashback*
I walked, following Fitz slowly through the halls. Suddenly, he stopped, the door in front of him as plain and basic as the million others we'd passed."Let's talk in here." I nodded mutely, fear taking my voice. This was it. I walked in ahead of him, praying that this ended well. I had a bad feeling about this and the last time I had a premonition like this my sister was raped. I leaned against a desk in the front row, my stance leisurely. When the click of the door sounded, I took a deep breath. It was now or never.
"So, what is this all about?" I questioned. He looked down, handsclenched tightly in his pockets.
"I have...issues...with everything." He started slowly. I nodded in acknowledgement. "At home and school, even after hours." Fitz took a deep breath. "My family is messed up. Really badly. My dad, he beats me a lot. It used to only happen when he was really mad but now it's almost every other day. My mom used to stop him, but when he hit her too she stopped." His voice cracked at the end. He didn't cry, like I already was, but his eyes refused to meet mine and his shoulders slumped pitifully. "She's too busy smoking now to notice anyway. You name it, she's tried it." Fitz finally looked up at me, his pleading blue eyes dull. They sparkled with water but not a single drop spilled.
*flashback end*
Everything about him in that moment in time screamed, "Save me. Help me" and I didn't realize soon enough. Time unfroze, and the adrenaline finally kicked in, allowing my limbs to move again. I whipped my phone from out of my pocket and tried one, two, three times before successfully dialing 9-1-1. When the operator finally came onto the line, my throat closed up and I couldn't speak. After looking back down at Fitz's injured body, I snapped the phone closed, praying they could track the call's location.
I was shaking and my hands didn't want to cooperate, but I had to do this. I needed to be brave because otherwise this broken person would slip from beneath my fingertips. He would die and it would be all my fault. With that thought, my body stilled enough to allow me to concentrate. What now? I thought, frantically glancing around. My eyes landed on a few towels the teacher had on top of a mini fridge in the corner of the classroom and the haze in my brain cleared.
Stop the bleeding.
*F/B2*
"What do you mean" I asked warily. It obviously wasn't anything good.
"Everyday I wander the streets for hours, because I don't want to go home. And to make it worse, even my older brother is always high on the drugs he steals from my mom. I have nowhere to turn to Clare. Then, as if my life wasn't screwed up enough as it is, whenever I think about not coming back home I'm forced to worry about my little sister. I couldn't leave her alone with them."
I wanted to reach out and give him a hug. He certainly needed it. After hearing about everything he was going through I felt like the most self-centered person on Earth for ever complaining about my parent's bickering.
"Fitz...I never knew-"
"Exactly! Nobody knows! Everyone just assumes that I like to beat people up, that I like being feared, that I enjoy being an asshole, but I don't! That saying about judging books by their covers is true, Clare. I, I just want to get through high school and move on with my life. Get as far away from all of this as possible." His face went hard. "If your boyfriend will let me. To tell you the truth, I'm not much of a bully. I don't have many friends and the few I do are more like followers. If I don't keep up appearances then I'll just be alone."
*End f/B2*
I was on the third towel by the time I started hearing sirens in the distance. My hands were red as well as the now crimson red towel that practically sopped with blood. I had taken a first aid class a few summers back and I learned that you should always see where the wound is, stop the bleeding and then treat it accordingly.
I never did like that class.
Passing it didn't make this any easier though. I picked his back up off of the floor, very slightly, and carefully removed his shirt. After I wiped a bit of the blood away I found that the wound was very slight. Just above his ribcage but over too far to have hit anything notably vital. There is too much blood though and I can't play doctor forever. "Fitz?" I whispered weakly. He had to wake up. He couldn't die. Absolutely not. "Mark Fitzgerald! Get up! You have to get up!" I choked out, my tears disappearing within the pool of blood forming beneath us. I kept shaking him until my fear of hurting Fitz more stopped me.
This is really happening.
Fitz was shot. I am here, with his life in my hands and where are the police? Somewhere the hell else. Not here where I needed them. They were just a few more people that have failed Mark in his lifetime. I wish he'd told me sooner. If I'd known, I would have been nicer, tried to help him. Anything. Anything to prevent this. But it was too late for what ifs. I have to live with my mistakes and everyone else's that ultimately led to this.
*F/3*
"You know, the night before I messed with Eli, my mom got drunk and accidently burned me with her cigarette. Yeah, I think it's fair to say I wasn't in the best of moods that morning. I also had a freaking migraine that made everything a million times worse than it was, so when Goth Boy comes pumping his screamo music my head practically burst into flames."
Eli's music does tend to have that sort of affect on people.
"I really wasn't trying to start anything, but he was the one that kept it going. When you think about who the bad guy really is in this situation, think about this. Who was willing to end this at any given time? Who sent the other to jail? Who continued to retaliate even after the other was done? Not me. All that was your egotistic boyfriend. As if my life wasn't complicated enough!" He kept running his hands through his hair, pacing back and forth across the front of the classroom.
I wasn't sure what I should do so I did the first thing that came to mind; Grabbed his shoulders, holding Fitz in place, before speaking."Stop! Don't do this to yourself! I know you feel overwhelmed and helpless but please, please don't sit here and keep it in. Doing this
isn't helping." He looked at me, eyes wide, before shrugging my hands off of him and going back to his beloved pacing.
"Now when I come to school I have to deal with my horrible grades, even shittier friends, and then worry about whether or not your boyfriend had anything planned to make my day even worse. Oh, then I have to do it again the next day and pretend I didn't cry myself to sleep the night before!" He stopped in his tracks, suddenly turning towards me.
I wanted to cry. This was too much to take in. Too much to bear and he had been doing it for so long. "I-I'm not sure how much longer I can keep this up." He whispered. At that, I pulled him into my arms, giving him the tightest hug I could muster. He couldn't already be this far in. Having those sorts of thoughts, but the reality was a sad place to be.
*End F/3*
"Someone! Please! Help, I'm with an injured person and he really needs help!" I yelled frantically. Fitz wasn't answering and his breathing was much shallower than before.
"Clare," Mark rasped out. My attention was immediately on him, "thanks for listening." I smiled, though I know he can't see me.
"After this I'll listen to you any time. I promise. Things will be different." His jaw muscles twitched upward into a slight smile before falling again.
"Really?" I squeezed his hand.
"Really." Then he seemed to go unconscious because his already weak grip slackened and his head went limp. Never good signs for highly injured people to show. I heard the frantic steps of people down the hall just before the door burst open.
It all felt like a hazy dream after that.
Men in uniforms burst inside baring guns and various weapons. Vaguely I felt arms wrap around me and a familiar voice in the background but the main thing I remember is how cold I felt after Fitz was pried from my arms. This could be it. Rain fell from the sky, because at that moment even God was crying at how drastically wrong this situation was, and as the water rolled down my cheeks, I finally realized the severity of the situation.
Mark Anthony Fitzgerald may never come back. He may not live or he'll be physically impaired and when it comes down to it, it's all our fault.
A/N- Wow...it's been a while. I finally got the inspiation to finish this story though so I can happily post it and move on with my life! Took long enough! Oh, and this is just a small Epilogue so to speak for my story A Change of Pace. If you haven't read it then this may be a bit confusing.