John's Short Stories

Your Fault- Part 1

Atticus stood there, wind softly rustling his hair. The quiet river ran across the earth in front of him, sunlight sleeping through the thick canopy of leaves overhanging the water. The water itself glistened and rippled, smooth round rocks lining the riverbed. A boy with stark black hair joined him on the small hill above the creek.

"Attie, come on. Let's go!" Lee laughed, sliding down the muddy ground. Atticus watched him go, a smile growing on his face. He followed him, dirt streaking his already muddy shoes. Lee paused at the river bank, his toes hanging over the soft earth.

His best friend for years, Lee had a smile on his face at all times. He was always happy. He never stopped talking, for one. Atticus was quieter, but the two had fun together.

"Wait a minute, I've got to get my shoes off." Atticus called, sitting down to untie his tightly bound shoelaces. 

His back turned to the river, Atticus didn't see Lee jump into the water. He didn't see his bare foot slip on one of the smooth stones under the rushing water. He only heard a terrifying crack and a loud splash. Atticus turned around instantly, alarmed by the loud noise.

"Lee?" He  asked, waiting tentatively for Lee's joyful voice to yell back. But it didn't. He could see Lee's body under the water, but suddenly sunlight illuminated the dark liquid flowing through the river. 

"Lee!" Atticus screamed, jumping up as Lee lay there, unmoving. 

Silent.

Atticus waded into the water, not caring if his shoes got wet. He grabbed Lee's arm and attempted to pull him up, but his own foot slipped on the rocks. He fell backwards, outstretching his arm instinctively to catch his fall. He gave a shout of pain as his hand collided with the rock, seeming to jar the bone out of place, but he had a more important thing to focus on.

Atticus wrapped his arms around Lee's waist and hoisted him above the water, carefully stepping across the stones to reach the shore. He lay Lee down carefully, pressing his ear to his chest to listen to a heartbeat. It was faint but there. He cradled Lee's head, water streaming from his face, blood steadily dripping from Lee's head.

"Please stop. Stop. Stop. Lee, stop. Please stop, stop stop-"

"Atticus?" Atticus lifted his head, his gaze landing on Mr. Thomas, Lee's father.

"I heard screaming. Is everything-Leonardo?" Mr. Thomas awkwardly slipped down the riverbank, halting in front of his son and Atticus. 

"Leonardo. Leo-His head is bleeding!" Mr. Thomas screamed, grabbing Lee from Atticus's arms. The action pulled his wrist again, sending another burst of pain.

"What did you do to my son?!" Mr. Thomas screamed. Atticus stared up at him, his eyes wide with fear. Mr. Thomas started to run up the riverbank, probably towards their large house. Atticus was left there, alone, blood staining his hands. Tears welled up in his burning eyes, but he furiously blinked them away, tipping his head back. He stood up shakily, clenching his teeth at the dull pain throbbing in his hand. It had swollen now, part of the bone pressing against his skin in an unnatural way.  He started up the bank, tears dripping down his cheeks, and the shock having worn off, his hand in agonizing pain. 

——

"Ma?" Atticus called, looking around their house. His mother came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. She must have been cooking dinner.

"Atticus, you're back. I need help with dinner."

"Ma, my wrist hurts. Can I just take a nap?" Atticus asked, holding up his wrist.

His mother took it, examining it closely.

"You broke it, honey. Go to the doctor." She said with a sigh. Atticus took it back, staring at it.

"Okay, Ma. Love you." Atticus called. His mother didn't answer.

She doesn't love you.

——

Atticus managed to stumble into town, taking a couple deep breaths to collect himself before stepping into the doctor's office of Ross the street from the candy store. He was a regular at one of the two.

"Dr. Porter?" Atticus called, looking around for the doctor.

"You again? What did you do this time?" Dr. Porter, a rather large man, poking his head through the door.

"I think I broke my wrist, sir." Atticus said sheepishly, holding his wrist up.

"My lord, again? Come along, let's get you a cast and some pills..." Dr. Porter said with a sigh.

You're a burden.

He sat Atticus down on the cot in his office and took his wrist gently. He examined it, poked it, prodded it, and finally got up to make the cast.

"You've got yourself a nice fracture there, son. It'll take maybe six weeks to heal." Dr. Porter stated, taking out the stockinette and plaster. Atticus was well-experienced with broken bones, and he could honestly cast his own wrist if he wanted. After about fifteen minutes, it was over.

"Remember, it'll take 24 hours-"

"To set, I know." Atticus said with a small smile. Dr. Porter smiled back.

"Just ask your ma to bring over a couple dollars. Family discount." He said.

"Thank you, Dr. Porter." Atticus said, turning to leave.

"Ah, wait, how'd it happen?" Dr. Porter asked.

"I, uh, fell in the creek." Atticus said quietly.

"Where's that Thomas boy then? He's always with you at the creek." 

"He had to go home."

Dr. Porter looked at him quizzically, but let him go without further questions. 

Atticus started to walk to his quiet spot in the woods. Then he started to run. Then he was sprinting, tears running down his face as his cast swung wildly at his side. His foot caught in a root, sending him flying. He instinctively shoved his hands out to break his fall, but luckily remembered his wrist and pulling it back. He landed on his knees, ripping the jean pants he was wearing. Blood began to bubble , almost invisible against the dirt smeared onto his skin.

You deserve this.

Everything hurt. His eyes, his knees, his wrist, and now his head. A killer headache was beginning to form, as if that wasn't enough.