-How the Mighty Fall-
It had happened so fast that he could've never hoped to see it as it happened. The crash, the blur, the scream, the blood...
One moment he was mouthing off Dash Baxter, and the next, the tall boy was out cold on the floor, blood spilling from the back of his neck in a steady stream, dying his hair a sickening rust.
All at once the boisterous chatter of teenagers stopped and the once deafening hallway became became silent as a tomb. Like one being, every pair of eyes turned toward the still form of the blond boy slumped on the tiles.
Nearby lay a single, solitary cube, the stark gray of the ventilation pipe a blinding contrast to the paleness of the students' faces. Somewhere in the back ground echoed the sound of pounding footsteps.
Like the red sea the students parted as Edward Lancer walked forward. His eyes shifted round the room to every face, every locker, every backpack. His pupils shrank as something soaked into his shoes, something sticky.
His eyes joined the dozens watching the quarterback as he lay there. One question split the silence.
"What happened?"
All at once, like the flip of a switch, the world was no longer mute. Whispers filled the hall as all turned to the one standing above the bleeding boy- Danny Fenton.
The words caught in his mouth, his throat swelling shut as his system went into shock. He tried to get his mouth to open, to do something, but it remained firmly clenched. With a deft motion he pointed to the steel pipe laying on the ground, one corner a dingy red.
The man's teeth clenched as it became clear what happened. "Somebody call 911!" he yelled as he fell to his knees over the boy, just standing there. He couldn't do anything he didn't know medical care. But somehow, somehow, just standing there would help... somehow.
The two stood there as murmurs peppered their ears. Now and then a sniffle from Paulina would mix in with the static of the hall.
Soon sirens began to join in. Men in white suits stormed through the door, carrying a white stretcher. They didn't ask a word, didn't pause to grieve what would without a doubt become a paralyzing injury. They just did as they were told, their emotions blocked by years of death and bloodshed.
That was the last time that any student of Casper High ever saw the jock. He didn't die- but was crippled from the neck down. Can never to speak again, as the block of metal had damaged his language center. All he could do was moan or groan when he felt pain. Bed ridden for life, with no hope for a future.
As the days turned into weeks and then into months, all that Danny Fenton could think of was what would have happened if he had been one foot the left. Then he would be the one never again seeing the light of day in its full untethered beauty. He would be the one watching as life went by, without him along for the ride.