Paper Aeroplanes & Other Stories

Forever Friends

We'd been stood in the boy's locker room arguing. I can't even remember what it was about; I suppose that I'd done something wrong, again. It was the same story every time; Kyle would shout and scream at me, sometimes he'd hit me and tell me that it was all my fault-that if I weren't such an idiot and didn't insist on winding him up, then none of this would happen.

My face was still stinging from where his hand had come into contact with my cheek when the gunshots started going off. Kyle had grabbed me by the hand and pulled me along behind him; he didn't stop running until we'd reached the store cupboard and were safely hidden.

"I'm so sorry, Kimmy, I never meant to hurt you," he'd said to me, but he'd said that a lot and it never stopped him from doing it again, and again.

When the door burst open, and the person with the gun walked in something as natural as breathing suddenly became the most difficult thing in the world. He held a gun in each hand, and despite the fact that he'd tried to cover his face, I recognised him straight away. I'd listened to him moan about the sweater he was wearing enough times in the past, he even let me borrow it that time we were down the park, and I was cold.

He aimed his gun in our direction, and for a horrible moment, I thought that my life was over. As strange as this may sound there was a small part of my brain that was at peace with it-I was finally going to be free from Kyle, dead or alive I didn't care. But at the same time, I wasn't ready-there were still so many things left for me to see and do, I didn't want to die at sixteen.

When Adam had shot Kyle in the leg, I didn't feel anything for him. I didn't care.

And when he held his hand out to help me up, I took it. But I didn't run for help; I couldn't; it was as if I was rooted to the spot.

"What the fuck are you doing? Why are going with the freak?" Kyle shouted from where he was slumped in the corner bleeding. Despite the fact that he'd just been shot and was obviously in pain he was still capable of being the same nasty bully he'd always been.

"Do you love him?" Adam asked me.

"What you think she'd madly in love with you or something?" Kyle said before laughing like a maniac. "Of course she's in love with me, you really think someone like Kimmy would be in love with a freak like you?" He'd taunted Adam followed by more maniacal laughing.

Kyle really was one crazy bastard, Adam was stood there with a gun pointed at his head, and still, Kyle tried to bully him and get the upper hand.

"Do you love him, Kimmy?" Adam asked me again.

"Say it! Tell him you love me!" Kyle had ordered me.

Someone in the same position as Kyle-slumped on the floor, blood pumping out of his leg, and a gun aimed at his head-shouldn't have been giving out orders to anyone.

"If she loves you, then you can live," Adam said to Kyle. "Do you love him?" he asked, turning to face me.

Did I love Kyle?

"Tell him you love me . . .for fuck's sake Kim, he's got a fucking gun, tell him you love me, please?" Kyle begged.

Maybe that's what happens when you are faced with death; first, you fight, then you resort to begging. I couldn't help but wonder how long it takes until you finally give up.

Of course, I didn't love Kyle; truth be told I had probably never loved him. But all I had to do to save his life was tell Adam that I did. I only had to say three words, "I love Kyle," and then it would all be over.

"Just remember freak, I had her first," Kyle sneered at Adam.

"Last chance, Kimmy, do you love him? Tell me that you do and he'll live," Adam moved the gun up to his own head, indicating that he would shoot himself instead.

"She does. She loves me, tell him, Kim," Kyle was desperate; he was begging me to save his life.

"You have about thirty seconds left Kimmy, do you love him? The clock is ticking."

I remember thinking is thirty seconds really long enough to save someone's life? I'd watched at the numbers on my pink watch changed, 9:55 am became 9:56 am.

"Kimmy, please?" Kyle had begged me one last time.

"Okay." I'd finally found my tongue and managed to utter my first word since Adam had burst in with a gun and shot Kyle in the leg. "I love you . . ." I'd said with my eyes closed, knowing what was going to happen next, but not wanting to witness it. Adam had pulled the trigger, and I'd almost jumped out of my skin when the final gunshot echoed throughout the room.

When I'd opened my eyes again, Kyle was dead. But it wasn't Adam's fault; it was mine. He didn't go back on his word; it wasn't Kyle that I'd said I loved, it was Adam-it always had been.

The gun was discarded on the other side of the room; there was so much blood, it was eeverywhere-they would never have been able to clean all of the blood from that room. Kyle's dead; unseeing eyes were staring blankly ahead at the ceiling.

Even if I had wanted to forget what happened in that room that day, I can't. I want nothing more than to forget everything and pretend like it never happened.

Do you know what it's like to see another person's brains splattered on the walls?

Or how a person's eyes look when they are dead?

I do.

I know what those things look like, I wish I didn't, but I do.

But what choice did I have?

Save the person who'd spent the last six months hurting me one day and apologising the next?

Or Adam, we'd been friends since we were five, and we'd promised to be friends forever.