---Patrick---
Why it happens, I still don't know, but it happens. And this specific memory took place three years ago, the summer of my seventh-grade year...
The trees pass by fast, flurries of dark green and black. Each branch a colony of needles, each lush and green and healthy. Wet with the rain from a couple hours before, dewdrops from pine needles dropping once here, twice there. The only light in the sky is the moon overhead, shining with a luminous light, a dim glow shredded through the trees. The only thing that lights our path is the headlights of our car. Bright white, shining beams through the fog to the puddles scattered across the ground.
"So... what's her name?" The voice rings out through the stiff air and, we would be listening to music but somebody stole our car radio and now we kind of just sit in silence. It's okay, though. I kind of like the silence. I like the way it sounds. Nothing but the tires under us and the sound of the engine and the occasional birdsong in the distance from the forest. If we were to explore it, I'm not sure if either of us would be able to leave. It's so thick and dense that I doubt we'd be able to get through the edge of it. But back to the woman's request. What's her name?
"Ashley," I say with a calm smile and light pink cheeks. The sleeves of my jacket are drawn up past my hands as I hold it to my mouth and chew on the cuff of the clothing, nervously. My mom is asking about Ashley, I know sex is going to come up eventually, and I've never really been that fond of the subject. I mean... yeah, I want to. I... um... masturbate sometimes, but for the most part, I like to stay away. Unless it's someone I'm absolutely sure about, I won't do it. Ashley is the only person I would do it with. And I doubt she would even let me. I'm p mmmm only 14.
"Is she cute?" She asks, her knuckles are white as her hands grip the steering wheel unnecessarily tight, keeping her eyes on the road but glancing over at me every once in a while. Her green eyes attached to me.
"Yeah..." My cheeks are warm as I slide my hands farther inside my light red sleeves, embarrassed about talking about my girlfriend.
"Well, no sex 'til you're 16 or so, and we can talk about it. If you decide to do it earlier, though... at least use protection. I don't want to see you die on me."
And there's the sex. I blush even more because Ash and I have talked about it... but at the same time, I still want to wait until I'm absolutely sure, "It's not that serious yet..." I say with a mumble.
"Sure it isn't, I know about all you high schoolers. Always experimenting." She chuckles, "Is Brendon jealous?"
"No, he's gay. I told you that. He's dating Joe." I reply in a mumble, but I'm happy to get away from the previous topic, "Although, I think he should date Ryan."
"Ryan's the one that always wears eyeliner, right?"
"Mom. There are like ten guys I know of who wear eyeliner, you have to be more specific." I laugh. Brendon, Pete, and Ryan all wear eyeliner, and I know she gets my friends mixed up a lot. Much more often than she should seeing as I've been friends with them since I was about five, they come over at least once a week, and I talk about them 24/7.
"The guy who isn't Pete or Brendon."
"Yes, that's Ryan. I think him and Brendon should be together. They'd be a cute couple." I reply with a smile on my face. She looks over at me, taking her eyes off of the road for just a split second to look at me then looks back.
"Okay, so tell me more about this Ashley."
I blush at her persistence to know about my girlfriend, "Mom. You're making me sound like a teenage girl."
"Good for you, now tell me."
I smile and shake my head. I don't want to do this, but if she makes me, I can't exactly stop her from doing it. "Well, she has wavy blue hair, not like dark blue but like a greenish-blue. Like... Like..."
"Aqua blue?" She finishes.
"Yeah, exactly. She usually wears a beanie and... I don't know. She's cool. More like a tomboy. She has a best friend named Melanie, although her and I don't talk much." I reply, "I dunno. She doesn't usually hang out with the guys, but sometimes she does."
She looks back to me with a smile, "Well, I hope your relationship works out well... And if this one doesn't work out, then I hope your next one does. I want you to be happy because love is... nice. You gotta have fun with it," She says. I blush, but despite my body language, I'm happy. I'm really happy. I'm happy that she supports me and I'm happy that she's here for me.
That's also when the headlights flash.
Her green eyes return to the road, but it's already too late.
The impact sends us spinning on the gravel in fast circles like it's a merry-go-round that's out of control with no restraints other than the seatbelt across our laps and chests. I feel sick to my stomach as we go, clutching onto the handle bar just above the car window, holding on for dear life as I scream in terror. Mom is beside me doing the same.
I bury my face in my elbow, huddling up as I try to protect myself from the next obstacle that might come our way. A cliff? A building? A tree? My eyes are shut. I can't look. I'm scared of what I'll see. I'm afraid I'm going to die. I'm terrified, and I've never wanted to be somewhere else more than I am now.
I feel the car stop suddenly. An impact in my chest sending me back against the seat with my hand hitting the door handle and my legs sprawled out uncomfortably. I can barely breathe with the airbag pressing against me, but I manage, forcing my lungs to inflate and deflate as I try to calm down and let the fact that we're not moving anymore sink in through the shock.
My eyes are still glued shut because I'm scared to open them and see the scene in front of me, but I do anyways. Forcing small movements at a time as silence engulfs me and I suddenly wish we had our car radio back. I can't see anything except for the bag, it's blocking my sight, so I tug the handle of the car's door and open it before sliding out like liquid to the gravelly ground, avoiding the pieces of glass left over by the windshield and the car door.
The cold air hits me, and with each breath I take, my chest hurts. I'm aching, but I try not to let it slow me down. I can already tell I have a few bruises and cuts but lucky, I'm undamaged for the most part. I hope the same goes for the driver of the car. It has to be the same. Maybe better.
I cough up a little bit of blood, but I'm too weak to do anything about it. I need to make sure Mom's okay. I need to know she's going to live. She's my first priority. I can wait on myself.
I look around through the moonlight finding out what happened, piece by piece. We must have spun out from the impact of the car and crashed into an old building that nobody's used in years sitting on the side of the road. If we'd gone any farther to the right, we would have spun right off of the cliff. I let out a thankful sigh at that, and as I look to the road, I realize the other car left. It's just Mom and me.
"Are you okay?" I call out to the second person in the car, hoping for a reply. But there's only silence. No reply, "Hello?"
I step around to the other side of the car, the gravel crunching underfoot and I pull open the door in worry. The sight makes every joint in my body freeze up, and I have to step back to make sure I'm not imagining this.
She's motionless. Her blonde hair stained with dark red blood, an expressionless, glassy look branded in her green eyes and her mouth open just slightly. My heart stops. Time stops. I'm completely frozen, and I can't move. This can't be happening. This just can't be happening. No. No. No.
I unbuckle the seatbelt and drag her out, setting her on the gravel and falling to my knees by her side. The gravel digs into my skin, but adrenaline is blocking it all out. Blocking out the pain. The common sense. Adrenaline is only embracing the fear coursing through my veins.
No. No. No.
I lean over her, hovering my ear just over her mouth, there's nothing. Not a breath. Not a word. Not a whisper. No warmth at all. Nothing.
No. No. No.
My hands immediately take place on her chest, one on top of the other, right on top of left, hoping I'm doing it right. Praying for it to be right with nothing but my rushed breaths and the movement my hands on her chest.
No. No. No.
I press down hard, over and over again, pumping her heart, hoping it'll start. Praying for it to start. I can't let this happen.
No. No. No.
I lean down to her lips but my heart only sinks more, and my stomach continues to rumble, sending acid up my throat. There's nothing. I try over and over again, growing my desperate with each pump. It's no use. Nothing is happening.
No. No. No.
"Please, please, please." I beg as I continue pumping her chest, "Wake up."
No. No. No.
"Wake up, wake up, wake up." I plead with each pump getting louder and louder with pent up energy. I'm yelling her name now, and I can't stop. The streetlamps are the only things giving me light as I try to heal her heart.
No. No. No.
Then, I scream. I scream with all my emotion because I'm scared. Because I'm sad. Because I'm fucking pissed. Because I'm disappointed in myself. Because I can't save her. Because she's going to die and I can't do anything to stop it. I scream as loud as I can. I scream so loud I hope the world hears my anger, I hope universe hears my sorrow, and I hope God himself hears my pain. And I want everyone to know this new tear in my heart. And I want each and every person to know how much this hurts. That one wish to the universe. That one demand to my mother. I need everyone to know how scared and devastated I am. It's a cry for help. This isn't happening. This is just a dream. This never happened. This can't be my reality. None of this can be my reality. My reality is so much better than this. In my reality she's alive. I scream because I want my reality back. I whisper. I speak. I yell. I scream. I scream so loud I'm afraid my voice will shatter. One demand. Two words. Six letters:
"Wake up!"