Take me


2. Noah - the attack

It seemed like a normal day, trudging home from school, late afternoon; through the local park. It was early February, ending the winter frost, but it was surprisingly cold – cold and dark. My breath fogged before me in shapeless clouds, slowing, fading into the desolate, bare air. The trees swayed back and forth slowly as the leaves waltzed across the large, dark, open fields. For the majority, tonight it was relatively silent; all except for the sound of gravel crunching underneath our feet and the static, flowing from Jack's earphones. I turned my head and watched him stride along beside me – without the slightest care for the world, or for my presence for that matter. His attention was lost, away and out of this moment. My attention was captured by the nature all around; all that Mother Nature had created and produced before my very eyes. Winter made it all look more fascinating to me. How the simplest things like the grass and the leaves looked beautiful, coated in the frost and snow; empowering the most inadequate objects of nature look exquisite.

Gradually we reached the mid point, the centre of the park in which Jack and I departed in different directions, to our homes. He lived in the northern district and I, in the southern, almost recreating the fact that we live so differently to each other. He lived in a Tudor decorated home; half timbering, steeply pitched roof and tall narrow windows; tinted as if it were stain glassed windows presented in the holy church. The home was filled with the most intricate furniture in the entire town. However, my home almost polarised with Jack's in such a way, I felt disgusted with myself. For I lived in a council home; it looked so indifferent in comparison to the others in my street, all the houses lined up in a street as if they were soldiers waiting to battle. The out side walls heavily painted in a murky, dull, repulsive grey; like the others, almost telling those who lived in worse conditions, to be the same…to not stand out, as if we were not worth it. Well, congrats because that's all I feel about myself now; as if I am a waste of space, which I don't belong.
Words unspoken, we bid our farewells to one another; although we were so different from each other, Jack and I were in fact very close; even if he continuously is mocked for even breathing the same air as I do. It feels almost as if, due to the mockery of being my friend, it is pushing us apart… slowly and gradually till we are no longer within the same cycle. I looked up to see the tall trees stand strong almost like warriors in combat in the direction of where I was heading to…home.

Suddenly, I heard a cry, a scream for help, and a crash of rubble. I spun on my heels and ran towards the shriek. Feeling my feet crash against and again; into the gravel as I went, heart was hammering aggressively against my chest, that I thought it would give up on me before I could reach him. The scream was Jack's. I sprinted as quickly and as hard as I could. "Faster, c'mon!" I panted. I need to help him; I cannot just leave him there alone! Finally I reached the middle point of the park. I saw him. Not too far from where I had stopped; stood a tall, well built man, standing over what looked like a small boy. Not any small boy…a frightened Jack. Jack just lay underneath the man, sprawled across the ragged grass, motionless. The figure stood and watched Jack, watching his chest raise and fall…waiting for his last breath. And all I could do was watch, letting my fear and anxiety rooting me to the very spot. Without warning, the guy raised his arm, extending it above his body. I watched and gasped. He was holding a crowbar. My eyes dead-locked onto the metal instrument, as the man bent down closer to Jack's body; for the final blow. I was watching a gruesome horror film, waiting for the inevitable scene -of the brutal murder. He raised the bar, ready to strike. No…The adrenaline pumped through me, making me snap out of the hypnotic phase, I sped forwards- towards them. Running towards the killer; the gravel scratching and tearing against the soles of my feet, penetrating the silence. The figure spun to face me then in a split second scurried away, away from me, away from Jack.

I just watched him run away, not even try to go after him. He ran away from the crime he had committed without any remorse or regrets No guilty conscience…How sickening… I turned to look at Jack, expecting him to jump up and act as if nothing happened, expecting him to make me swear to secrecy. But he was lying perfectly still on the grass, was he even breathing? He looked as if he were asleep, a deep sleep in which nothing could harm him… like sleeping beauty. Slowly I crouched down to his side, still no reaction to my presence… not even a twitch or a flicker of the eye lids. With my trembling hand I pressed it against his chest looking for the reassurance of his heart beating, nothing. I stared at his body in disbelief, the once so strong Jack the one who was afraid of nothing and would gladly venture out without a care in the world… laid dead before me. Softly I pushed away the hair that stuck against his forehead, damped by his sweat and his blood, hot and sickly tack underneath my finger tips. And there I saw a long deep gash embedded into his forehead.

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