The Last Goodbyes of Trevor McKinney
A Pay It Forward fanfic
Rating: T-M Pairings: None beyond mention of cannon Warnings: Language, Violence
Disclaimer: I do not own Pay It Forward, or Psycho.
A/N: Hey, people. I said I had this hidden away in the dark corners of my brain. It has decided to surface and stop nagging me. I know it's a weird writing style, but I'm experimenting. It switched between past and present tense and can be a little confusing if you're skimming. Tell me what you think. I hope you like it. REVIEW!
The Last Goodbyes of Trevor McKinney
Moment: A brief portion of time averaging three seconds.
FOR ME
Hello. My name is Trevor McKinney and I was 12 years old.
I saw my friend, Adam, being beaten up, again, by an older girl and her "gang". But this time it was going to be different.
I was different.
I saved Adam, but the cost was dear.
The girl pulled out a knife, she wanted to threaten me. But she had no intention of really hurting me, not more then knocking me around a bit.
Life is a series of moments, strung together by fate.
In less than a second, my fate was decided, not by the girl, her gang, or even me. I was shoved backwards, hurtling towards the pavement. I caught my footing and turned to face the suddenly less confident girl. I think time slowed down for all of us when we realised the knife was in my path.
I will never, can never, forget the moment the blade entered my body. I heard Mr. Simonet yelling, and my mother screaming, but I couldn't make a sound.
White-hot pain exploded in my stomach, I felt my innards shred, rip, tear. The cold steel was only in me for a moment before sliding out, but that moment was all it took. The wannabe gangsters fled, terror evident in their eyes and expressions.
God. Fucking. Damnit. They never considered killing me, did they? I was an accident to them, a mistake, a case of simple bullying gone wrong. I fell to my knees, clutching my bleeding stab wound. Eugene's face appeared in my fading vision, then my mother's.
Mother. Oh god, Mother! Blood. Blood!
I don't think those words ever meant as much to me as they did then. I lost my balance and lay on my back. The Las Vegas sky was annoyingly sunny and cheerful.
God, please, I've always tried to be a good person, and an obedient child. I started Pay It Forward, I saved Adam. Why won't you help me, Lord, why? I'm only 12, I have so much to do and to see.
Is this payback? I didn't save Adam from the dumpster dumping, I yelled at my mom, but I apologised, didn't I?
Then I realised, this was it. No more biking, no more Pay It Forward, I won't get to see Mr. Simonet and Mom make up, I hope they have more kids, I always wanted siblings. I only just regained my Grandma, and now I'm going to lose her forever?
The last thing I heard was the shrill wail of an ambulance. I saw my mother's tears, please don't cry, Mom, I don't like to see you cry.
But there were more tears on my face then her's, my own were slowly trickling down my cheeks, leaving salty tracks.
I closed my eyes once more, and the world faded, darking was winning.
And then I died.
FOR ARLEY MCKINNEY, MY MOM AND EUGENE SIMONET, MY TEACHER AND FATHER FIGURE
Died. Dead. Gone. Lost.
To me, those are the true four letter words. Not damn, shit, etc.
I awoke in a cold, cement room, facing a wall of silver, metal doors.
Where am I?
A morgue, that's nice, God, make me live in a morgue for all eternity. It's depressing, I'll give you that.
The door banged open, and a pair of burly orderlies in green scrubs wheeled a gurney in, complete with a body bag. Really, where am I? Hell? Heaven? Limbo?
One of the orderlies struggled to open one of the steel compartments in the wall. The other unzipped the body bag, if I could have fainted I would have.
It was me. Pale and naked, with a neatly stitched up inciscion in my lower torso.
My stab wound. Oh, God, why? WHY?
My corpse was carefully manuvered to a stainless-steel slab, covered with a white, plastic sheet, and slid into the airtight, makeshift coffin.
The orderlies left me alone in the quiet, shadowy room with only the mentally scarring image of my dead body for company.
When I was done sulking and focusing on my fully justified self misery, this took about 4 hours, I began wondering why I was still on Earth. Did I have a purpose, unfinished business to attend to?
Could anyone see me? Are there more people like me? Those were my next questions. The orderlies looked right through me, that's not a good sign. Let's just say no for now.
What should I do, am I a ghost, a shade of who I once was? I think I want to see my Mom. Now, to test my powers, can I walk through walls, can I even walk? Do I float?
I experimented, putting one foot after the other. I can walk, aww, I kinda wanted to float, just for the experience. I walked over the the imposing doors of the morgue. I reached out, trying to touch the cold steel.
I went right through. Hurrah, no cage can hold me, I can slip through any wall, like water through your fingers.
The orderlies were wheeling another body towards me and my temporary resting place. I didn't stick around, I couldn't take seeing another body.
I turned and ran the opposite way, phasing through walls and out onto the darkening street, it's almost sundown.
I caught a ride on the bus my mother took to come home from her job at the strip club. I never liked her working there, she's too good a person to be reduced to seducing strange men. I hope Eugene helps her.
A little girl appeared to be staring right at me during the whole ride, I waved and she waved back. I guess small children can see me, fat load of good that'll do me.
I had to jump out at my stop because no one else was getting off with me. I sprinted towards my house, anxiety taking over.
My mom. How is my mom. I hope she isn't taking this too hard. I hope she isn't hitting the bottle again. Please, God, help my mother.
I phased right through the front door and turned to the living room. There she is, Mr. Simonet was holding her. They were both crying, my mother's sobs were much louder then Eugene's.
On the TV, they were showing my interview with Chris, I'd forgotten about that with the little hassle of my death.
Two cups of tea rested on the coffee table and I breathed a sigh of relief. Mom wasn't drinking, thank you, God. Or rather, thank you, Eugene, for keeping her away from the bottle. I didn't want anyone to drink away my memory.
This was my time to make peace with Mom and Eugene. Here goes:
Mom, I love you, I always have and always will. I know you expected to die before me, I kind of expected it too, but it's better this way. Now, I can watch over you from where I'm headed. You won't be alone, I'll be with you forever. When you pass on, I hope it's more peacefully than my death. Pray for me, Mom, and don't grieve too much.
Mr. Simonet, Eugene, Dad, in the last months of my life you were a parental figure for me. My biological "father" may have given me life, but you've given me love. Life is nothing without love. I love you, more then you will ever know. If I can, I would like to call you Dad. You most likely will never know I asked, but I will until you tell me not to. Watch over Mom in the real world for me, I can't do that anymore. Don't miss me so much that interferes with you living your life. You have time left to enjoy, if not for you, then for me. Take my Mom to see New York, Europe, the world. Life is too short not to see what it has to offer. I'll be there in spirit, enjoying it with you both. I love you, Dad.
I was crying ghostly tears, that poured down my face, off my chin, and into nothingness. I love them both so much, and I'm trying to let go, to let them move on.
For Grandma Grace
After I watched my parents comforting each other, I went outside and was shocked. A crowd of people were standing by the gate with candles and flowers. They were here to remember me?
Tears kept rolling down my face, the cycle of appearing and disappearing continued.
I saw someone near the front, the other person I need to make peace with.
Grandma Grace. I approached, phasing through people and flames to reach her. When I was standing in front of Grandma, I stopped.
This was my final farewell, I had no one else to say goodbye to.
Heya, Grandma, I know you don't know too much about me. I don't know that much about you either. I wish I could have spent more time with you, you always were kind to me. I love you, Grandma. We were separated by the angered relationship you and Mom shared. I don't know what caused the break, and I don't want to know. Knowing won't change anything for me, I'm dead, right? But please, help Dad help Mom to recover, I want you all to be happy. Cry when you need to, but stay strong for me. I hope you lay off the bottle, too. I hate seeing drunkeness break up so many families. Join Al. Anon. Force Mom to join too. I'm praying that Mom will let you move into our home, so my family stays close.
I closed my eyes again, and this time, darkness lost. Light prevailed and I was soaring high, up to a place where I can always watch over my loved ones.
I smiled.