Scott Sister Friend
- 1 year ago
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Goodbye Scott, My Friend free porn video
All my stories so far, have been drawn from some sort of personal event or situation in my life. I haven’t written a story in a fair while because nothing had happened of note. Something in my life, though it happened years ago, finally hit me recently, and this was borne of it.
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I hope it’s peaceful where you are. Looking at your photo, I hope you’re at peace Scott. My fingers, they trace the outline of your face on the photograph. Interesting. This is the closest I’ll ever get to touching you again. To seeing your smile, the way your eyes creased whenever you laughed, anything like that.
Looking into your eyes in the photo, it finally hit me a few minutes ago that I’ll never see you again. I’ll never get a phone call from you, a joke postcard from you when you go on holidays, I’ll never be in your presence again.
Standing over your new grave, photo in hand, looking at your headstone. This is as close as we’ll ever get ever again.
I guess in my mind, a suicide is preceded by outcries from the person, signs of ‘I need help’ or whatnot. It didn’t happen. There were no ‘signs’, in fact I’d say everything seemed to be getting better, healing, picking up majorly. It was a ruse though damn you. You showed everyone what they expected to see, what they wanted to see, why couldn’t you just let us see what was really going on in your mind and heart!
I’m your best friend, practically your brother, and I was the one who found you. I was the one who used the saw to cut through the thick rope you used when I couldn’t find a knife. I was the one who held you on the ground for an hour, knowing you were hours gone, cradling your head in stone silence, a whole god damned hour, before I finally burst into tears thinking about what had happened. I couldn’t bring myself to call the ambulance, it was only when Kelly walked in, when her screaming started, that I snapped out and was able to.
Why did you do it Scott? Why did you have to go and do this?
Since then, I’ve found myself sitting there in quiet moments, reflecting on the times when we were younger, all different time periods, randomized, never in order. I guess that’s how the human brain works, one thought flowing into another, never quite making sense yet making perfect sense to the person doing the thinking.
I think about things like the time we were young and did ‘Little Athletics’ together, the times we would ride our bikes around the park together, play on the swings, hang off the monkey bars, things like that.
I think about the times we’d be riding our bikes around past the sun going down, our mothers walking out the front of our neighboring houses and demanding we both go inside lest we be ‘hit by cars in the dark’. Man, they practically had to drag us in, we really put our mothers through hell, heh.
Remember when we were young, I think like, 9 years old, we’d have our video nights. We’d save a dollar each and rent a movie each, then buy a pizza slice each with the left over fifty cents… times like those are the one’s that will forever etch into my memory. Seeing you laugh at Steve Martin, young enough not to understand it truly, but old enough to find it funny. Times like that.
I remember times like, when I was all of 10, I would stay over your place, we’d awaken at around 4.30am in the morning, before everyone else and just play the Commodore 64 all morning. A few hours later we’d migrate to the lounge room to watch Transformers or Thundercats, whichever week it was for the appropriate show to be on. We’d eat our cereal and argue, who was stronger, Grimlock or Optimus Prime, Starscream or the Aerial Bots.
It seems so trivial in retrospect, that we had a fight over that once. It lasted two weeks until we finally realised we were arguing over a cartoon. But that’s how a child’s mind works. To a child, nothing is trivial, and to a child, anything is possible.
I remember you having the most intense blue eyes. For a comparison I think I’d have to say, that chilling shot of Cillian Murphy in Red Eye, would be the closest. Amazing they were, ice blue. You could stare down anyone with them. I also remember that god awful mullet you had, heh. Short sides and long back, and all blond. Talk about awful.
I think I should’ve thrown a party the day you chose to shave your head. Made you look so much better.
And what an effect, at 13 you had 16 year old girls swooning over you. What a stud…
I remember the fight you had with your brother Bradley before he left for Desert Storm. Our country only shipped out what, a few hundred? He was one of the ‘lucky’ ones as our Prime Minister so quaintly put it. I wonder if that son of a bitch would’ve said that had his own child been going too…
We were playing Nintendo that day, Primal Rage from memory, I was the ape guy and you were the Raptor, I was kicking your ass two rounds to one and there was a knock at the door. You said you’d get it but your mother said she would and to keep playing with your friend.
It was only when the muffled voices stopped and your mother started screaming that we clicked to what must’ve happened. You looked at me, your eyes suddenly shot full of tears, like someone had up ended a jug of water over your face, your lip quivering, we both ran to her, your father had come pelting through the back door. She was shaking her head, screaming your brothers name.
People were out on the street now, seeing what the noise was. One of the neighbors had run up the path, calling out. I was asked if I would mind going home, I nodded and left.
Later on I was told Brad was dead. Killed by indirect friendly fire. Isn’t that ironic, the term ‘friendly fire’, I don’t imagine that term even came to mind as the artillery reigned down on him.
The funeral was one week later from that day. Fully paid for by the state, buried with full honors, a ceremony and your mother was presented with a flag and his medals.
Some fucking compensation. Lose a son, gain a fucking flag.
I never really knew Bradley that well to mourn him as a good friend, but I did just the same, however, honestly that emotion, that outpouring of grief, came from knowing how torn apart you were. It came from knowing how I could do nothing for you. I think it was ok to grieve like that? I think it was?
I know when he died, a big part of you went away forever too. You never seemed quite the same, like something wasn’t there anymore. I suppose an adult would call it innocence. To me, you seemed emptier, less lively. Years down the track it was the same, all I can think is that somewhere, somehow, theres a world where you never lost your brother and you’re both happier there.
High school came and went, both of us quiet kids, never really got into trouble. Studied a bit, decent grades, I’m sure you remember. You met Kelly in year 12. She was in her second year of Uni.
So, when you went, she was in her last year, it was an interesting situation to say the least. But you both made it work, and when you were 21, she 24, you married. I was the best man, she looked magnificent in her white dress. You, well, you were you. I can’t comment on you too much lest people get the wrong idea, haha.
I remember when your son was born, my godson. The topic came up of what to name him. You simply said ‘Its Bradley Scott.’
It wasn’t a suggestion, it was a statement, as if your wife had no say.
She looked perplexed, then I understood, you’d never ever told her about your brother. Hell, she hadn’t met your parents until the wedding, so it wasn’t that much of a surprise. When she insisted on knowing why you wanted that name, I saw something building up in your eyes, some sort of anger, over ‘who dares question me’ or something. I don’t know. But it was there none the less.
Fourteen years on man, and you’d still not recovered. I mean it’s not like I’d expect you
to forget, but I thought you’d come to terms with it. Fourteen years Scott and I had no damn way of knowing it still lived in you.
I remember one morning, getting a call at what, 2 A.M? It was Kelly, calling from the hospital, telling me you’d been out drinking, a habit you’d taken up since Bradley Scott was born. Something we’d all seen you sliding into but no one was game enough to say anything. She told me you’d been in a head on accident, miraculously both drivers were alive. I stayed with her, with your father as well, for two days whilst you were in a medically induced coma. When they brought you out of it, I remember your father saying to you ‘You named your son after your brother, a hero. Don’t piss on his memory because you can’t handle the fact he’s dead.’
It sounded harsh at the time, but we all knew it was the right thing to say. Hell, it got you on the road to sobriety.
Time passed, Bradley Scott grew into a healthy young boy, a cheeky smile, piercing eyes like his dad, brown hair like his mum. The phone call I got on a Sunday absolutely devastated me though. Your uncle rang, telling me you’d been in an accident again, this time I thought you’d fallen off the wagon but you hadn’t. Kelly was ok, you were ok but little Bradley died on impact, showered with glass he had no hope. I can’t write any more about that.
His funeral, they say it was beautiful, I say it was fucking horrific. I loved that boy and I loved him more than I could love anyone in this world, and I will never call a ceremony marking the end of his tenure in our lives ‘beautiful’ because it was horrific, plain and simple FUCKING horrific.
I can’t talk about that any more.
In the last year and a bit you’d gone under counseling, I thought it truly had helped, I really did. Your marriage was as strong as ever, you fed off each other for strength when it was hard to get by without Bradley Scott. It just seemed fate kept dealing you blow after blow after blow to see if you’d stand up against it.
And then last night you’d rung me, asked me to come around today at 3.
So I sit here, writing what started out as some plain eulogy, something that should’ve been read to everyone at your funeral, but ended up as something I’ll never show anyone.
I miss you Scott, I miss Bradley, Kelly’s moving back to her mothers next week, I’m losing her too.
I have no one now. I know that’s selfish, but I need someone. If this happened to you when you had people to turn to, what happens to me when I have no one to help me?
All I can think, is that I’m glad Bradley, Bradley Scott and you are all together again, and I’ll join you and so will Kelly, one day.
So as I trace my finger again over your face, over and around the shape of your sons face too in this picture, all I can think is that though I suppose sometimes people say you should celebrate someones life when they die…
I’m just going to miss the fuck out of you man.
Lynne
- 08.08.2020
- 27
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