Broken

By:  Sierra

 

The necklace swings back and forth in my hand. Back and forth. And then back and forth again. Swinging, singing, as it cuts through the air. It shimmers in the light too, reflecting off a silvery shine and catching in my eye. Singing and shimmering. That sounds so pretty.

 

I suddenly grasp the necklace in my hand and crumble it into a ball so tightly that my knuckles become white and my hand becomes red. I suddenly want to squeeze it so tightly that it disappears or shatters into a million pieces… whichever comes first. My heart beats faster, my eyes squeeze tight and my hands shake. They shake and scream my anger out, as I beat down and down again upon the comforter of the bed.

 

Why? Why, why, why, why?!? Oh God, why?!?

 

Snap.

 

Suddenly I stop. I let the necklace slide from my hand, and it slides down to the carpeted floor like a little silver rivulet. My hand trembles as I pull it away from where the necklace lies, crumbled and defeated. One of the tiny clasps of the silver chain lies broken, so that other little links threaten to come falling off at any moment.

 

I back up onto bed's comforter from my crouching position on the floor. I turn my face away. This…this can't be happening. Everything he ever had is already broken, everything that I ever had to remind myself of him is already broken, and now… now this. Another part of him broken because of me.

 

There's a memorial somewhere. I know there is, because I put it there. It use to be so new and shiny, almost like a promise that sometime in the near future I would be able to feel like that again. It was bright blue, with those plastic flowers that look so real that you have to go right up to them and feel them to make sure they're really fake. Those flowers lined the styrofoam cross and made the cut edges of it seem less harsh. There were no words on it, just simply that bright blue plastic that still smelled new and almost like real flowers, since it had come from the center of a huge bouquet room at the florist. I know because I was the one that picked it out.

 

I remember when I first set it up, I had felt a little better as I felt the styrofoam squeak on the bark of the tree beneath my fingers. I ran my fingers along it, feeling the stiff edges of those plastic blue flowers, feeling the crisp new lace along the edges, and most importantly, feeling the metal latch on the back, so that the cross hung straight upon it's new home on the tree.

 

I then backed away from the tree, smiling a little, knowing that as people passed by in their cars, maybe a little bored and staring out the window, they would see the cross. They would see his memorial and remember him. Even though they didn't know who he was, they would remember. They would also see the crisp newness to it, the plastic flowers of it that could have been real. They would think to themselves how loved that person must have been, to have someone care for their memorial so well. They would remember, and he would be remembered.

 

It was a temporary relief. Backing away from the tree and the stark bright memorial on it, I had felt that tiny instant of happiness melt away. That was when I saw the bits of black still on the ground. Not needing to stoop closer to see what it was, I turned in a circle, staring at the ground in horror. There were thousands of them, just…lying there. Thousands of little pieces of a car that had long since been towed away, but at the same time had never completely left.

 

Those little pieces seemed to burn into ground, and I felt that if my foot brushed by one, it would have felt like acid. They were indistinguishable little bits of metal, glass, and plastic, no more then an half an inch big, but in my vision, they loomed thousands of feet high. Stumbling backward, I clutched my coat around me a little tighter and felt my way backward to my car. I jumped, skidded aside, and almost yelled out every time I felt my feet brush by one of those little pieces of debris. I was right, too. They did feel like acid, eating through the soles of my shoes.

 

To my relief, I had then felt my hand on the cold metal of my own car. Running to the opposite door, I flung it open and ducked inside. With my hands trembling on the wheel, I didn't even look backward at the bright new memorial before I sped off. With a screech of my tires in the black of night, I had left it far behind, standing guard over that little patch of grass on the side of the highway.

 

It was easy to run away, I know. I look down now…. at my trembling hands. I then stare up to the blank ceiling. The memories aren't helping my shaking body.

 

We had been driving home, with the radio blaring and the world swirling around.

 

"J…JC…you don't think it's bad that you're…gasp…drinking? Do you?" His speech had been slurred, and he leaned his head back against the seat laughing between his attempts at talking.

Not acting like myself at all either, I turned and put an elbow on the wheel and leaned toward him with a stupid grin on my face. "Lance, my friend…I hate to tell you but…you're drinking too."

He shut his eyes and then opened them, looking confused. "I am?" He then laughed a little and hit me. "If I am, then where's my drink, Mr. Smart Ass?"

 

Feeling the car still moving beneath my elbow, I turned back to the moving road in front of me.

 

"Up your ass, Lancey."

 

"No… no it's not!" He looked around with a smile on his face. "Seriously, where is it?"

 

I put down my own glass, that was sticky and coated in the light brown liquid. As soon as I steadied it, it toppled down onto the car's carpet and spilled across my shoes. I didn't even notice it, though. "Lancey, check your hands."

 

Lance looked confused again and then looked from his left hand to his right. Suddenly a smile spread across his face. "Ohhhh! There it is, the tricky thing."

 

"Very good Einstein. Now…" I paused to get a breath and turned toward him, swaying. "Now… I propose a toast." I lifted up my invisible glass, that was really rolling across my feet.

 

"To what?"

 

"You're more drunk then I thought, Lancey. To our first big deal! No more scraping along the bottom of the music world. From now on, we're gonna be on top! Just us guys, moving up and never going down!" I made gestures with my hands of spiraling downward, and Lance laughed out loud.

 

"Oh, right! Clinky then!"

 

I met my imaginary glass with his real glass. "Clinky!"

 

Somehow, I had taken both my hands off the wheel, and became caught up with toasting with my invisible glass. It was almost like I had totally forgot I was driving at all.

 

Then, the next thing we both felt was an incredible surge of movement, maybe to the left, maybe to the right. The world spun even more quickly out of orbit and we both screamed out as we were thrown from side to side. I screamed as I felt the window smash onto my shoulder. Little bits of glass sprayed everywhere and my entire body seemed to be out of itself for a moment, as I was thrown to the ground.

 

I don't know how long I spent screaming and crying on the ground, rocking my body and feeling the entire world spinning. Hot flashes of pain seared into me, but it was nothing like the feeling I experienced next. It wasn't pain, it was like an incredible feeling of falling. It felt like my stomach had dropped away and left me motionless. It was the feeling of silence.

 

It was the reality of the silence surrounding me besides my own shuddering breaths. It was the silence that was screaming from the figure on the ground twenty feet from me. It was the silence of Lance lying still among those thousands of pieces of debris.

 

Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh God. I clutch my head in my hands and close my eyes. That memorial is still there. Almost a year now, it stands guard. Guard over what, though? My fears and a past I can't leave behind?

 

Yes, a memorial stands there, along that same place, along a busy highway. The cars pass it by now, though, and never give it a second glance. If they do, they turn their heads away in pity.

Because that memorial stands there, but the styrofoam is eaten away, and the pure new whiteness of it has long since turned brown and dark from time. The lace is also browned, but it also use to be such a bright white. The flowers… they droop and are cracked and broken at certain parts, not looking the least like real flowers now. The entire cross hangs at an obscure angle off of it's tree, looking crooked and somehow out of place.

 

I know because I haven't been back there. I can't even take that black concrete path anymore, let alone pass by that memorial.

 

But I promised you, Lance. I promised you I would take care of it, and make it up to you. I promised I would make it up to you that I took everything away from you when we suddenly had everything at our fingertips. I promised you I would keep going there, no matter how much it hurt. Because it hurt you more.

 

I never did go back though. Not once. I can't. I can't do it Lance, and I'm sorry. I…I just can't. It's so unfair to you, and so selfish of me, but God, Lance, if I see those pieces of debris once more I think I'll lie down and never get up again.

 

It's me Lance. I did it to you, and I keep doing it to you even though you're gone. I broke everything you ever had, I broke your memorial by never going again, and now… I broke your silver. I'm sorry… I'm so sorry. I know how much you loved this necklace. And I thought this was the one part of you I couldn't break.

 

Oh God, oh God. Don't forgive me. I deserve this. I'm just so sorry Lance. I just can't go back though. I can't.

 

I grasp my head in my hands and rock my body back and forth, staring at the broken silver necklace splayed over the carpet. My hands inch up over my hair and face, blurred and hot. I can't… I just can't.

 

The door opens, but I barely hear it.

 

"JC? Come on! We have to show you this! You'll get the biggest laugh outta…" The voice stops and I hear a hand fumble on the doorknob.

 

The voice then begins softly. "Oh God, JC… why…why are you crying?"

 

The End

 

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