A Year Without Johnny

Harry Mitchell is a young boy whos best friend commited suicide. Since the event, even more terrible situations have come to pass and Harry is left making heart wrenching decisions. This is his letter that lets you into his life, his thoughts and feelings, as he lives a year without Johnny.

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8. Seven months without Johnny

Fireworks exploded as I whimpered softly, pain striding through my body. I was finding it so hard to focus on anything, not even the large flashes from cameras below. The people down there were oblivious as to what was going on but so was I. I should have been counting down the New Year with the rest of the world, with my friends and family. Instead, I was here.

I was standing on the edge, not letting myself look down the hundreds of feet to the floor. I was so cold and alone, the night breeze taking over my body. I wanted my head to stop pounding. I would have done anything for the hurt to stop, for the world to stop moving so slowly.

I lifted my arms up but I do not know why. I took a breath and still I do not know why. I jumped and I would really like to know why.

London wasn’t screaming this time, the world just kept on moving without me. It was almost as if I had never even existed at all.

I woke up and it was still dark. I couldn’t get back to sleep so I stayed up for the rest of the night. Not because I wasn’t tired but because I was too scared of having that nightmare again. I didn’t want to watch myself, Johnny or anybody jump.

I was extremely lucky this month, or so said Jessica, that my mother’s ex-boyfriend that, if you recall, I punished, did not press charges. I am glad he didn’t as I couldn’t have coped with anymore drama.

So, Lizzie was refusing to leave her room and most days I would visit her, sometimes with Jessica or Ricky, and we would just talk. I liked listening to her tell me stories about her and Johnny when they were children. I enjoyed those days, really, until it all took a turn for the worse.

I was searching for Lizzie’s photo album, which she said had many brilliant pictures of their family holidays from back when everything was all okay. It was when I opened the top drawer of her dresser, where I knew she kept all important thing, I found Johnny’s plectrum. I questioned Lizzie about it, furious at what she had done, and she told me that it was all she had left of her brother. Well, it was all I had left of him too.

She told me I wasn’t worthy of it and that I wasn’t allowed to take it. I took it anyway and I left then and did not bother to turn back, not even to see the mess of a girl I was walking away from. I didn’t even bother to question her about the fresh burn marks on her skin or the fact that a chunk of her hair was missing. I was too angry to care about her in that moment. Looking back, I know I shouldn’t have left her, and I probably wouldn’t have done if I knew just exactly how bad a state she was in.

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