Snap

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Snap

By Sophie Huchet

Snap. That sound, it haunts my dreams and has me lying awake in my bed at night, again and again. Snap. The sound of bones crushing, ligaments splitting, vertebrae compacting. Thump. Crumpled body on the ground, life defeated. The images wreak havoc on my waking hours and desiccate my sleep. The colors. The reds of the blood, the white of bone as it rears its ugly head through pulverized flesh. He was my brother, but the crumpled mess on the ground, that's not him.

            That Saturday morning I woke to ‘It's Raining Men' by Aretha Franklin on the radio. Little did I know that the most important man in my life would literally be raining down right in front of my eyes later that very day. I quickly dressed, quietly anticipating. I was going to the pictures that day, with my brother. My brother. He wasn't really related, but the bond we shared was more than any blood relation has ever offered or will ever offer me. I loved him, and somewhere in his twisted and tortured psyche I am sure he loved me too.  He wasn't loved by his family and neither am I, so we sort of meshed, sharing stories of abuse and hardship. I guess I just dealt with it better.

             I arrived at the theatre, waiting for him to appear. He didn't. He never would, but I didn't know that, did I? I sat expectantly for an hour and a half, and then another hour after that, well after the film had finished. I finally realized it was unlikely he would miraculously turn up and resolved to go to his house and wake him up as he had probably slept in. Never in my life have I been so wrong. I stepped out into what had been a drizzle, but had turned into driving rain. Pushing the sopping hair out of my eyes, I walked the 15 min to his house. I never had to knock to go in, because he was the only one ever there. His older brother was a druggie, his father was an alcoholic and his mother tried to hold the family together by never being around and working. Yeah, nice job (pardon the sarcasm). I pushed open the door to the familiar topaz colored walls and shaggy orange lounge chair. Something stirred inside me, a sense of wariness, or just something out of the ordinary. No music was playing, the familiar sounds of Nine Inch Nails was not pounding the prospective fillings out of my teeth, nor was there the welcoming sound of "Hey Soph darlz," or "Watcha up to babes?".

I shook it off; I mean he was still asleep, right? That was my theory, anyway.

            Walking down the hallway, I could tell he wasn't asleep; a framed photo on the wall gave a reflection of his tidily made bed. I entered his room and made an appraisal: posters peeling off the walls leaving marks where the blue-tack had been, guitars and amp on the floor, various items of clothing littering the area, nothing out of the ordinary. I called his name from the hall. No answer. I started to feel slightly apprehensive, but again repressed it.

            Opening the back door, I fell to my knees in complete and total fear and repulsion. There, hanging from the balcony was the limp form of my idol, the only person in the world I trusted. I didn't notice myself screaming, but I must have made some sort of sound, because the young man, Luke, next door came running. I let out an unearthly sound and collapsed on the ground. I was dizzy and disorientated. My entire life was coming down around me. My heart and soul had liquefied and was in a puddle around my feet. I'm surprised I didn't slip in it as I ran to follow Luke up the stairs. I took them three at a time, hoping against hope that he could be saved, but I knew he couldn't. His face was contorted and purple, bloody mess where his eyes had been, his neck compressed to the size of my ankle. His naked shoeless feet purple and black, his bare chest speckled with coughed up blood. He was so obviously dead, no-one in their right mind would have tried to save him, but we did. I wasn't in my right mind. All I could think about was how much I loved him and that no-one in the world would want me if he didn't. He was the reason I hadn't been beaten to a pulp on many an occasion by now. I was never popular. Even with my own father.

            Luke started the pull the rope suspending him. I knew what would happen when the already straining noose was tightened further, but no amount of knowledge could have prepared me for that sight. His head lolled to the side as his neck was wrenched upward. I saw the bones under pressure in his skinny neck, being torn between gravity and Luke's strength. Snap, snap, SNAP! Snap, went his neck, snap once more and then snap went the rope.  There was a moment of nothing as he seemed to levitate, but it didn't last. My heart (what was left of it) shattered into a million tiny shards as he hit the 2m retaining wall and kept going, sliding down the tilted bricks and crumpling concertina- style onto the ground. He had left a smeared trail of blood, even though he had no heart beat to leak it out with. His blemish-free chest had practically exploded from the impact of falling 3 stories. His ribs were protruding from his smooth, white skin. His legs were broken above the knee and he was covered in blood.

            Desperately clutching at any shred of hope remaining, I ran to him and literally threw myself to the ground next to him, putting my hands on his mangled torso, trying to resuscitate, but I knew, even as Luke took over and I ran shakily for the phone, it was much too late.

            I left blood all over the receiver and buttons and as the nasal voice of the emergency operator pierced my shock, I broke. I died that day, I'm sure of it. My soul never recovered. The fall that shattered my brother's spine shattered my heart.

*                      *                      *                      *                   *  

The ambulance arrived and I was still crying. The broken body of my sole protector, brother and best friend was taken away, still I cried. My tears mixed with the rain on my face and the wind chilled me to the core. It was only once the crew had left, the body was gone did I stop. I then descended into utter depression and come to think of it, I never really left.

            I couldn't stay. I had to run, and run fast. I ran and ran and ran faster than I ever could through the easing but still quite heavy rain. I ran longer than I had ever done before, stopping only when my lungs threatened to implode. The horrible truth hit me like a wall. I fell onto the ground, unconscious in the easing rain. When I awoke and stared at the dried blood on my hands, I came to my ultimate realization.

I was completely alone.

Comments (1)

Posted by Rover 04-13-2008 00:37,   ... The ending was really powerful...The anguish of the narrator was well rendered through the whole story. I would like to know more about the bond between these two people, I understood it was strong and everything, but knowing more about it would bring even more emotion to the ending...And you also did a great job with the horrible little details concerning death, it was really creepy.   » Report this comment to administrator » Reply to this comment...

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