Flash Fiction
I hear footsteps. Not the soft tapping I usually hear, but an even sharp clunk. There is a shadow coming closer, and it stops just outside my cell. I look up. The shadow is not that of a broad-shouldered man, which is unusual. Instead I see a narrow, hourglass figure standing before me. A deep, distant voice announces that I have a visitor, and my rusty door creaks open. As the figure steps into the light, I recognize her. She came to visit me. She came, just like I had dreamed. Why am I so tense? I should be thrilled, but that’s not the case. Where has she been the past five years? I’m in here because of her, and she is only visiting me now?
She comes closer. She looks different. Her hair was always tied up in a dark bun, but now it's down and curled. Where I remember seeing jeans are slacks. Her sweatshirt is now a blouse. The old high-tops have transformed into heels. That goofy grin I loved is gone. Now her expression is serious, and sad. Deeply sad. I look into her dark eyes, and don't even recognize those. Joy used to fill those eyes. Now sorrow is all I see. Where is the girl I remember? The one I used to call my best friend?
She takes one more step in, and starts to cry. It’s not just a cry, but more of a sob. She has to gasp for air. I feel my shoulders drop. I want to do something, but don’t know what. Streams flow down her cheeks, like she just let out years of hurt. She reaches out and hugs me. She grabs tightly, and puts her head into my chest. I hear a soft “I’m sorry” between breaths. I softly wrap my arms around her and lay my head on hers. I know what she’s sorry for, and she should be. Regardless, I whisper “it’s okay”, just because I feel obligated to comfort her. Her head snaps up to look at me. Her makeup has smeared, and her hair goes in every direction. “No,” she said sternly, “it’s not okay”.
This topic has haunted me since I've been here, and I'm sick of thinking about it. I desperately need to change the subject. "Where have you been," is the best I can come up with. She stares for a second, confused, as if I'm speaking a completely different language. I stare back, and she turns her head. I can tell she knows what I mean. "After the incident, I was furious at you. I refused to come anywhere near this place." She looks back at me. "So why are you here?" The tears build up in her eyes again. "I realized you were only helping me. If it weren't for what you did, I can't even imagine where I would be right now." She takes a seat on my bed, and stares off into space. I sit next to her. She leans her head on my shoulder. I wrap my arm around her. Neither of us wants to break the silence, so we sit there.
The memory comes back again. We were at the party, but not together. She was with her boyfriend all night. I still wish I could have taken his place. I wish I was the one sitting next to her. Everyone had far too much to drink. I saw her stand up, and he followed. He yelled at her, and she yelled back. He threw her to the ground while she tried to apologize for whatever it is she did wrong. He kicked her, refusing to listen. I had to do something. The rest was a blur. The next thing I knew she was in the passenger seat of my old rusty Toyota. She yelled at me, telling me to take her back. I couldn’t. I don’t know what he would do to her. I couldn’t take that chance. She reached over my lap and grabbed the steering wheel. “Take me back!” she screeched in my ear. She was going insane. I could tell the alcohol had become too much for her to handle. The light we were headed to turned red, and I tried to gain control of the wheel again. She wouldn’t budge. We kept going. A car was coming from the left, and fast. I yelled at her to let go but she wouldn’t. She spun the wheel toward her and we went into a tailspin. The other car tried to stop but was too late. We were flung forward. The seatbelt cut deep into my skin. Warm blood trickled down my arm. I glanced to my right and saw she had passed out. Watching her body was like watching a rag doll being tossed around. The car stopped. Cops came. I was arrested. I looked out the police car window. She was on a stretcher. The ambulance took off. I felt tears roll down my face. She would never forgive me. I took her away from him. I tried to protect her, but ended up hurting her. I took full blame in court, and she never argued otherwise.
Now she was here again. She looked up at me. “Thank you” she said softly. I nodded. “I never realized how awful he treated me. I was too in love.”She laid her head on me. I stroked her hair. It was so soft and smooth. “Just glad you’re back.” I replied. We sat there for a long time. Together at last.
She comes closer. She looks different. Her hair was always tied up in a dark bun, but now it's down and curled. Where I remember seeing jeans are slacks. Her sweatshirt is now a blouse. The old high-tops have transformed into heels. That goofy grin I loved is gone. Now her expression is serious, and sad. Deeply sad. I look into her dark eyes, and don't even recognize those. Joy used to fill those eyes. Now sorrow is all I see. Where is the girl I remember? The one I used to call my best friend?
She takes one more step in, and starts to cry. It’s not just a cry, but more of a sob. She has to gasp for air. I feel my shoulders drop. I want to do something, but don’t know what. Streams flow down her cheeks, like she just let out years of hurt. She reaches out and hugs me. She grabs tightly, and puts her head into my chest. I hear a soft “I’m sorry” between breaths. I softly wrap my arms around her and lay my head on hers. I know what she’s sorry for, and she should be. Regardless, I whisper “it’s okay”, just because I feel obligated to comfort her. Her head snaps up to look at me. Her makeup has smeared, and her hair goes in every direction. “No,” she said sternly, “it’s not okay”.
This topic has haunted me since I've been here, and I'm sick of thinking about it. I desperately need to change the subject. "Where have you been," is the best I can come up with. She stares for a second, confused, as if I'm speaking a completely different language. I stare back, and she turns her head. I can tell she knows what I mean. "After the incident, I was furious at you. I refused to come anywhere near this place." She looks back at me. "So why are you here?" The tears build up in her eyes again. "I realized you were only helping me. If it weren't for what you did, I can't even imagine where I would be right now." She takes a seat on my bed, and stares off into space. I sit next to her. She leans her head on my shoulder. I wrap my arm around her. Neither of us wants to break the silence, so we sit there.
The memory comes back again. We were at the party, but not together. She was with her boyfriend all night. I still wish I could have taken his place. I wish I was the one sitting next to her. Everyone had far too much to drink. I saw her stand up, and he followed. He yelled at her, and she yelled back. He threw her to the ground while she tried to apologize for whatever it is she did wrong. He kicked her, refusing to listen. I had to do something. The rest was a blur. The next thing I knew she was in the passenger seat of my old rusty Toyota. She yelled at me, telling me to take her back. I couldn’t. I don’t know what he would do to her. I couldn’t take that chance. She reached over my lap and grabbed the steering wheel. “Take me back!” she screeched in my ear. She was going insane. I could tell the alcohol had become too much for her to handle. The light we were headed to turned red, and I tried to gain control of the wheel again. She wouldn’t budge. We kept going. A car was coming from the left, and fast. I yelled at her to let go but she wouldn’t. She spun the wheel toward her and we went into a tailspin. The other car tried to stop but was too late. We were flung forward. The seatbelt cut deep into my skin. Warm blood trickled down my arm. I glanced to my right and saw she had passed out. Watching her body was like watching a rag doll being tossed around. The car stopped. Cops came. I was arrested. I looked out the police car window. She was on a stretcher. The ambulance took off. I felt tears roll down my face. She would never forgive me. I took her away from him. I tried to protect her, but ended up hurting her. I took full blame in court, and she never argued otherwise.
Now she was here again. She looked up at me. “Thank you” she said softly. I nodded. “I never realized how awful he treated me. I was too in love.”She laid her head on me. I stroked her hair. It was so soft and smooth. “Just glad you’re back.” I replied. We sat there for a long time. Together at last.