Disclaimer: I'll say this once and for all. I do not own One Tree Hill, its characters and everything adjoined to it. One Tree Hill is property of the WB or something like that. However this story line is all mine. Not yours or anyone else's.
Thank you.
I wrote this story after reading the first few lines of someone else's and listening to my immortal. So note, this won't be a happy story.
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I Could Never Forget You Tim
The problems I never knew he had
I was still in such a state of shock that I couldn't cry or even be angry. It's like everything hadn't quite settled in my mind. I still expected him to come walking in the door and asking us why the long faces. I could hear him laugh at the sad looks on our faces. Then he'd make a joke about how we were looking through his private things. Then of course, in the Tim Smith way, he would laugh about 'private things'. But sadly, Tim wouldn't come walking in the door because he wasn't there. He was dead.
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"I can't believe he's really gone." Lucas said in disbelief as he tossed Tim's basketball shoes that he had signed for when he got famous into a keepsake box. Mrs. Smith said we could keep anything that might be of value to us.
"I can still hear him laughing." He added with a sigh.
Lucas, Brooke, Peyton, the team guys and me were all at the Smith home to help clean up Tim's things. Mrs. Smith had gladly accepted our help. She said that she couldn't possibly have found the strength to do it all herself. So we dealt with his room, while she, Peyton and Brooke prepared supper.
"You know the raven's team just won't be the same without him." Jake said numbly and we all agreed.
Lucas opened the closet doors and was engulfed by a mound of clothing and other random things. "We should get Whitey to retire his jersey number." Lucas said as he brushed a sock off his shoulder.
"We're gonna need a dumpster for all this stuff." I said as I went over to Lucas. I knelt down and started to help him roll up clothes and pile them neatly into a box.
Once we had finished with the mound of stuff, a half of an hour later, I went over to Tim's desk. In one of the drawers, there was a big book collection. I didn't know Tim read this much. I thought to myself as I picked up one of the books. I opened it up to the first page. It was his journal
"Guys check it out." I said and called for the others to crowd around. "I found a pile of old journals."
It was an interesting discovery because we had never really thought of him as a real person with emotions. He was just Tim. At first we had a little laugh. Ha ha Tim Smith keeps a diary. That is, until we read the first entry.
4-30-1997
It was my birthday today. Nobody remembered. I guess they were all too caught up in the move to remember me. Sometimes, I wonder if they actually do give a rat's ass about me. Steve said they don't. I HATE him. He's so mean to me. Even more to Jessie. He hurts her. I'm gonna kill him! I swear I'll do it.
Anyway, so today we're moving from LA to One Tree Hill. What kind of a name is that? Uh! I don't want to go. I hate my mother! She thinks that if we move away, our problems will stay behind.
They won't!
"Woah." Jake muttered fearfully, speaking for all of us. We all looked at each other. We were speechless. "I feel horrible." He whispered loudly. We all silently agreed. There was obviously a lot more below the surface of Tim Smith than anyone had really thought.
"Who would have known that he felt like that? I mean… he seemed so happy."
I began to think about that and about him. I was his best friend, how did I not see it coming? How could I have missed everything? But as I looked back, the only signs about this were things that you could only realize if you were in his mind. Or if you were looking back and searching for them like I was.
"I never saw it coming." I said blankly. I felt a tear roll down my cheek, followed by another and another. I felt a few warm hands on my back as I folded in half, my head resting on my knees. I felt my body shake viciously as I sobbed loudly.
It's like when you've poured your glass so full of water that there's a little dome of water at the top. The slightest bump would cause it to overflow. That's how I felt. It had finally sunk in. My best friend was dead. He was gone.
"I want him back!" I cried out through tears and sobs. "Why?" I yelled. "Why God? Give me back my friend! Give him back!" I felt Lucas drawing me to his chest and the circle of silently crying basketball players closed tightly around me.
I could feel their sadness and mine. It echoed through the silence of Tim's bedroom.
As I listened to myself cry, I thought back. Almost everyday, I would hear about some party he was going to. And every night, he would drink himself into to a realm of forget. If only I had reached out and was there with him to get through the problems I never knew he had.
Sometimes, in the change room, when he thought nobody was looking, I could see a release of stress and pain. But of course, I thought nothing of it. I figured he was just tired and worn out from the practice.
If only I had known. Or if he had just said something. Anything. Then I wouldn't be curled up in my brother's arms, crying over my dead friend.
Then he would still be there.
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Well? Please review.
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Freedom itself was attacked this morning, by a faceless coward. Freedom will be defended.
-George W. Bush (after the attack of 9-11)