XI. The Scare (Part I)
Rick Murray
She's dead.
Vivian is dead.
This is how my mind works under a crisis. I imagine the worst case scenario first, then come to my senses next. As I crouch down on my hands and knees in front of the well that Vivian fell into, terrified, my thoughts spiral out of control.
Don't panic. It wasn't your fault that a girl's been hurt; it's the weather you have to blame; mother nature; God; you didn't do anything this time; for once you're innocent.
It's some twisted way of calming myself down, but with the tornado sirens blaring like a thousand ambulance trucks in the distance, it's of no use. My friend, my best friend, is down at the bottom of the well possibly dead.
Why the hell did I bother to take that stupid short cut in the first place? It is my fault, dammit!
At least if there actually is a tornado, Vivian is safe down below.
Another of my twisted thoughts again. If only I hadn't have been so selfish, so cowardly to take this route back to my house; if only I had known that what I slipped on earlier was the sign warning Vivian about the well! We'd be safe by now, and not out in the wind and rain.
Oh, no. The rain. Water could fill the well up in minutes and drown Vivian! I've peered over the edge of the well, and it's too dark to see the bottom. I've been sitting here for what seems like an eternity, but couldn't be any more than a minute. I heard her screaming, but then she stopped abruptly, like she hit her head at the bottom.
She hit her head. Like Terri did. Like Terri did when I pushed her down.
I didn't push Vivian.
I have to get her help. I didn't push Vivian down, so what do I have to be guilty for? I didn't do anything wrong this time.
Yes you did. You let her get away from you.
I dig my hands into the wet grass. I would've gotten us both home safely if I hadn't have slipped in this spot! Now I have to face my mother, again, about another girl getting hurt again. First it was Terri, and now it's Vivian.
Why did this have to happen to you?
I hate to leave her here alone. It hurts to leave that sweet, little creature alone out in this dangerous weather, but I'm no use to her out here in the dirt like a wet rat. I have to get her help.
But first I need to call her name.
"VIVIAN!"
I shout her name above the screeching sirens several times. No reply.
The air is still. It's the calm before the storm. Ironically the sky isn't as dark as it was before, but I know better.
I have to seek shelter. Now.
Hastily I dig into my messenger bag and rip out a sheet of paper from my notebook and pull out a pencil from my pocket. This is it. In case she comes to, she knows where I am.
I scribble this note:
Vivian,
I've gone to get help, and I'm taking full responsibility for what happened to you. I should've never taken this stupid detour, or we would've been safe at your house like you wanted. Thanks for being a good friend to me.
Hang in there,
Rick.
Here it goes: I fold the paper in half and gently drop it into the well.
As I take off for my mother's house, three thoughts keep me sane:
Vivian is alive.
I'm running to get help, not running away.
I didn't push her.