If I Knew Then

Chapter 2: Am I Scrooge?

The moment I followed Jaxson out of the white room, I knew I made a grave mistake. This was cruel. I hadn't expected him to stoop so low.

     "What is this? A Christmas Carol? Are you the ghost of Christmas past to my scrooge?" I bit sarcastically.

      "I need you to see what happened after that night," he answered softly. "What will happen to this girl and her hometown without you."

     Eyes narrowing and nose crinkling painfully, I searched the familiar neighborhood with a large lump in my throat.

"This is cruel," I voiced tightly, eyes glazing over the white Victorian home, sirens blaring in the distance.

     "We don't have to stay," he said. "Say the word and we'll leave, but I think she needs you to see this."

      Face contorting in confliction, even had I wished to leave, the words couldn't have successfully parted my firmly pressed lips. No matter the pain I anticipated the sight to cause, I couldn't tear my gaze from the unfolding scene. An ambulance pulled into the rutted driveway of my childhood home, as I stood across the road, waiting for the stomach dropping dread of the reaction that had paused the finalization of my plans, countless times.

      Blue and red lights flashing across the dark neighborhood, doors of curious neighbours swinging open, I watched the aftermath of my last living decision.

      Numb. Emotionless, vision hazy, I watched the paramedics rush through the front door with a stretcher; heard my closest neighbours' echoed concerns across the street. Only when my mother's frantic shouting overpowered the chaos, did swallowed emotions burst at their seams, bottom lip quivering in a last attempt to reign everything in.

       I couldn't bear to look at my body, couldn't bear to look at the hopeless measures executed in attempt to save my life. Most of all, I couldn't stand to look at the way my mother clung desperately to hand that was certainly already cold.

      "I didn't want her to be the one to find me," I chocked weakly, turning away from the scene. "But I couldn't do it anywhere else."

      "I know," Jaxson whispered though no one else could hear us, dropping a comforting hand on my upper arm. Blue eyes focused not on my crying mother or my lifeless body, I followed his sad gaze down the street.

      "No," I cried, gripping Jaxson's arm in support as my legs threatening to give out beneath me.

      Bare foot, in his famous grey sweatpants and inside out football shirt, my older brother Colby ran straight towards the chaos.

      "Don't!" I tried, taking a useless step forward.

      "He can't hear you." Jaxson's grip on my shoulder tightened, gently my pulling me backwards, against his chest. A sob racking my body, I fell into his hold, allowing him to hold my weight.

      Demanding information, attention swirling from the paramedics to my mother and then to my body, Colby's actions were frenzied. Pulling his golden locks in agony, he clearly didn't like the paramedic's response. He allowed a moment of anger, taking a swing at our garbage can, before crumpling over my blanketed body. Back heaving with sobs, I counted three breaths, like the three years that separated us, before he was pulling away. Face contorted in a way that would forever disturb me, he pulled our mother into his side, supporting her weightless form.

     I sucked in a breath, as they prepared to jump in the ambulance. "I can't watch this," I supplicated, turning away again as my breaths caught in the back of my throat. "I need to leave."

      Jaxson didn't hesitate. Strong hands guided me away from the scene. Eyes clamped shut, I stumbled forward blindly, refusing to catch sight of any other sorrowed face. Only when Jaxson spoke, did I dare to open my eyes again.