Transformers: Sparky

Chapter 3

I'll be honest, what happened to Dan really messed me up for a long time. I don't want to think about what happened, I would rather shove it down into a nice mental box, lock it forever. Life doesn't work that way; these things have a way of worming their way back into your thoughts.

There's sooo much "worming" too! Nothing stays in that lockbox for long, it always finds a way out again. One of those "worms" was the fact that he told me not to blame myself. Guess what? I still blame myself, but- I suppose at some point I did come to terms with it.
Are there things I would have done differently? Of course. The things I know now; there's so many ways I've thought of that could have saved Dan.

Hindsight is a bitch, because that's just it. It's stuff that I didn't have any control over, I didn't know anything, at that time there really was nothing I could have done. It sucks and it hurts like hell, sometimes I feel so lost...

There are so many things I wish I could have said to him, lots of things that I should have said to him. Every single day, I think of something new. A lot of those questions I had for Dan were never going to be answered. It's funny, back then all I wanted to know was the truth. Now I think I would have asked him what his childhood was like, what he did as a teenager, why he decided to become a mechanic of all things.
Most of all, I kick myself for never telling him thank you.

Hindsight really is a bitch...

When I think about Dan, there's two ways it will go: Either I'll remember something that I thought was annoying, but now missed whatever that annoyance was, or- much more likely - recall the day he died. That day was burnt into the core of my being. Sure, the moments just before he passed were bad, however the time just after were somehow worse.

My recollection is pretty fuzzy, still there are a couple of things that are clear as day. Like my shaking hands, the sensation of being choked by my own snot and tears, the white noise rumbling loudly in my ears, my heart pounding until my brain felt like it was going to burst.

I could still feel his body slowly dropping in temperature. The image of his glassy brown eyes staring up at me while there was a frozen smile on his face. His blood soaking into my hands as I tried to shake him awake, the horror as it dawned on me that he was gone. The sheer volume that escaped as I screamed until my throat was raw, how I couldn't stop the pain in my chest from tearing apart my lungs, airways and heart...

Although that day only got worse, Steve decided to run out of the relative safety of the mine, when it first happened, I couldn't understand it. I know he said something to me, whatever was said I never heard. Maybe it was the shock? It could have been the white noise crackling in the back of my head. Nevertheless, the words never reached me.

I recall trying to stop him; my legs were useless, collapsing beneath me as I failed to grab his hand. His silhouette fading away as he exited the mine shaft, leaving me all alone.

When I look back, I know why he left, it's pretty obvious now. I'd been screaming at the top of my lungs, no doubt drawing the attention of the government agents; Steve had lured them away from me. When it first happened, all I could think about was someone else I cared about was going to get hurt.

I'd been so stupid! Why did I scream? What had possibly possessed me to do that? My therapist calls it a trauma response, I call it "not being tough enough to keep it in".

Yeah... My therapist says that's not healthy nor am I "loving myself enough". What does a helicopter know?

Anyway- Steve ran off to save my ass, which mind you I do not think I deserved! It was my fault!

Apparently, self-worth is also something I need to learn. Copterapist- that sounds bad. Whatever! This is my journal- I can type what I want.
ps. Blades, stop reading this! This is supposed to be private!