Tripped On Fate

It rained a lot that day, making the walkways on campus slippery. I didn't think much of it, I never do. I was running late for class, which, unfortunately, wasn't the most abnormal thing in the world. I stayed up far too late doing nothing in particular and regretted it in the morning. It was hard to brave the world each day, being someone like me. Everything about that day was normal, dysfunctional like any other, but then I saw a young man tumble backwards down a flight of concrete stairs.

I don't think I'll ever be able to forget the wet crunch his body made upon impact with the concrete. He tumbled right before my eyes, crossing my vision in a blur. I was about to run up those stairs before he went falling from them. Had I been one step faster, he would have crashed into me.

We were behind one of the lower buildings on campus, a really old one that only held a few classes and was mostly empty offices.

We were entirely alone.

I know I've read about this feeling in the past, the absolute and total defeat of helpless uselessness. It had never occurred to me before that moment, the fact that calling 9-1-1 required one to be able to speak.

There was so much blood.

I stood, paused in time for a moment as my world came spinning back into focus. Dropping to my knees next to him, I tried to remember what I learned in that First Aid class I took two years ago. He was yelling about how he couldn't feel his legs, that meant he could have possibly injured his spine. If that was the case, moving was the worst thing he could do. I was reaching for my notepad when he yelled about his vision going blurry.

If I couldn't write to him, how was I going to tell him to stay still?

I pulled out my phone, dialing 9-1-1 anyway. I could only hope his yells, that were quickly becoming incoherent, would be enough to elicit help. I dropped my phone on the ground next to me and took off my hat. Wadding my blue and gray beanie up in my hand, I held it to his head wound, hoping to stop the bleeding.

He demanded to know who I was, obviously delirious and panic stricken. It didn't help that I was unable to respond as I tried to hold him still. He asked if he was deaf and I could only shake my head, hoping he could see the gesture.

I felt so useless as he started to lose his color, his yells fading in strength. If I were normal, I could help him better. If I were normal, I could communicate with him. If I were normal, the responders would be able to find us faster. Goddammit, why was normal so hard?

The back door opened and an unsuspecting student happened upon the bloody disaster. They ran towards us, digging out their phone, and called emergency services as they asked me what had happened. The young man fell silent, becoming limp on the ground. His golden hair dipped into the pool of blood under him as his full weight brought my hand down. The blood was lukewarm on my knuckles.

I couldn't move, my eyes locked on his as they lost their life.

Don't die.

That was the only thing I wanted to say, the only message I wanted to get across. Don't die. Please don't die. You're so young, don't die. You're at University making something of yourself, don't die. Just, no matter what, please don't die.

The sirens tore through my internal panic, the lights dazing me for a moment as people rushed to my side. Asking me to step back, they quickly assessed the situation. Questions were being thrown at me from all directions but I didn't hear any of them. I was trapped by the sight before me. The emergency lights reflecting in the pool of blood still forming on the sidewalk was alluring in a sinister way.