At My Worst ( a Nicholas Matthews story)

Can't Dance with the Dead

As the car came close, i felt a strong push that knocked me to the ground and out of harm's way. The fall tore another hole in my jeans and made my knee bleed.

"Ow!" i whinned. I turned to the person expecting to see Lloyd or Johnny, but it was some guy i've never seen in my life.

"Why didn't you move out of the way?" he questioned.

"Uh-"

"NICK!" i heard Lloyd scream from the entrance of the arcade. Johnny is holding the stuffed bat i had wanted earlier. I got up from the floor.

"Fuck my knee" i fell back down. The car kept heading towards us.

"We should move inside." the guy told the others. "Can you walk there"

"I don't think so" i answered honestly. Lloyd and Johnny picked me up and went inside the arcade as fast as possible. The other man kept staring at the car, then wrote something down. Probably the plate number.

"What happened?" Johnny asked.

"Well there was a car driving around recklessly. Then your friend here wasn't moving out of the way so i pushed out of the way of the car." the man answered

"Nick..." Lloyd said, looking at me with a look that said why.

"I'm sorry. I just. I. I can't. I didn't" I just stopped trying to speak, i was clearly not going to able make sense.

"I called 911 right when i saw the car, so they should be here any minute now." He said, "I'm John by the way."

"I'm Lloyd, This is Johnny, and that's Nick." Lloyd introduced us.

"Nice to meet you."

"You too"

I looked at my knee, it wasn't bleeding anymore, but it was throbbing. Minutes later the police showed up with an ambulance right behind them. The car isn't in the parking lot anymore, so we're probably going to be interrogated. 'What happened?' 'what did the car look like' 'Why didn't you move out of the way' 'Are you suicidal?' Um no thanks. I hated interviews for the band and with Lexus, being questioned about a life threatening situation in which i didn't do anything to avoid doesn't sound any better.

They sat me down on a stretcher to check my knee for any serious injuries. They cleaned off the dry blood then pressed down on it. "Does this hurt?" I winced and nodded my head, yes. "What about this" i nodded again. "Alright, from the looks of it, it's nothing serious, so taking pain killers and icing it should help. And if it keeps getting worse, or doesn't stop hurting after 10 days go see a doctor for further instructions.

"Thank you"

"For now we're going to bandage it up."

They started wrapping white bandages on my knee. The rolled my pant leg back down then handed me a bag of ice. "Try to rest it as much as possible."

"Will do"

The cops asked a bunch of questions to John. I heard John say. "You may want to make a psychiatric evaluation for that one" as he glanced at me. Dammit.

They walked up to me. "So how you feeling?"

"I'm fine, how about you guys?" is lying to police men bad if it's just about your emotions?

"Pretty good." they replied, "Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?"

"No, not at all" Lyric pun unintended.

"Did you see what the driver looked like?"

"Um he had short brown hair, a beard, and small rectangular glasses." i explained, as one of them wrote it down. "I'm also pretty sure he was under the influence of alcohol." They wrote that down too.

"Ok. John said he had to push you out of the way of the car. Was there a particular reason you didn't move?"

"Ok i'm not going to lie. I didn't want to get out of the way. I wanted to get hit. But before you guys send me to a mental hospital, i am already on medications, and have been to a hospital this year." i might've just made that worse, stupid!

"Alright. But we're putting you on suicide watch. What's your name?"

"Nicholas Matthews." i was so tempted to say Bradley Lloyd Iverson.

"Alright."