How to escape your imagination

Chapter 8

I feel a hand come to my mouth as I gasp in shock.
Martha is still staring at the body.
Francis gently taps her on the back, and she spins around to face him.
"It's ok Martha, if we leave now we won't get in trouble."
I shake my head.
"I can't just leave him here." I say with slight aggression.
Martha tilts her head. "Do you know him Jonathan??"
I don't reply. I walk until I'm standing directly under Bram.
"I'm not going to leave him here."
I say again.
Francis groans for a stretched period of time.
"You ask for my help to keep you out of danger and to find this kid."
He says shaking his head.
"And yet, you seem to want to get into it."
I walk over to the ladder that begins up the side of the very tall bridge.
"It would be different if you knew him."
I say putting my foot on the first rung.
Francis runs towards me, trying to pull me down.
"You only knew him for, like, a day!" He says, slightly yanking on my leg.

"And he wasn't even real!"

I stop climbing abruptly with results in Francis winning the game of tug of war.

"I know you don't care." I say viciously. "But he mattered."

I stand up dusting off the gravel that is sticking to my tattered jeans. I once again begin up the ladder, and this time Francis doesn't try to stop me.

I carefully place one foot after another as I slowly climb the tall ladder up the side of the bridge. I tell myself not to look down. For once, I don't. All I can focus on is Bram. His body is gently swaying back in forth in the violent breeze. I continue up to the top of the bridge, staring down at Martha, Francis and Matthew, who are tiny figures now. I look straight ahead at the distance I need to cover to get to Bram, and quickly realize that I'm going to need to swing across to get the platform Bram is hanging from. I shakily place one hand on the bar above my head, glancing down at the flat pavement below. I bring my eyes back to my hands, which are already slipping even before I leave the unstable platform I'm currently standing on. Using all body strength I can muster up, I lift my body off of the surface and begin swinging my way across the uneven iron bars. All I can think about is Bram. I stop imagining the fall from this height and finally reach the platform. Looking over the edge, I pray a silent prayer of thanks. Francis and Martha are still watching, although there is no sign of Matthew anymore. I ignore the slight suspicion creeping up on my emotions and walk slowly over the metal grate. I reach the edge where Bram is lifelessly hanging over the cars passing below, when all of a sudden I hear a voice behind me. 

"You can do this, Jonathan." 

I whip around, even though I already recognize the voice. 

"Simon." I say out of breath. "What are you doing here??" 

Simon laughs slightly, and I see he can't take his eyes off of the street below. I lift his head up slowly with one hand and stare him in the eyes. 

"Help me?" I ask quietly. 

Simon nods and begins to walk over to Bram's body. I hold on to one of his hands, while he leans over the empty space to grab Bram and slide him closer to us. He brings him over top of our tippy platform and nonchalantly slides his hand out of mine, beginning to untie the rope that's barely holding on to the body. He manages to get him undone but before he prepares to catch it, his foot slips from the platform and his hands feebly grab at the air, luckily making contact with the unstable grate I'm standing on.  "Simon!!" I yell breathlessly, reaching down as far as I can to take hold of his hands.  "Grab on!" I say, although no words come out of my mouth, as if I were in a terrible nightmare.  Fortunately Simon's instincts know what had to be done and he quickly grabs my hand, trying to hoist himself up.  Wide-eyed, I stare down at the water below the bridge wondering if he would fall onto the bridge or into the river.  Shaking off the question I continue attempting at yanking Simon back up onto the platform.  He is heavier than I would ever imagine, but adrenaline pulses through my veins and I have a new found strength that hoists Simon up onto the surface.  He leans onto it with his torso, his legs still dangling from it, when all of a sudden the grate begins to tip.  In half a second I have a chance to see a hooded figure behind me, tipping it with his pale hands.  Shadows cover his face almost impossibly, and all I notice is the white that gleams off his teeth in the gradually setting sun.  As I slide off the strip of metal into Simon I can hear the faint sound of the voice in my head.  Even though I had only seconds to think, I could almost place the voice to someone I knew, someone I trusted.  Realization struck me at that moment, as I plunged into the dark water below, Simon right behind me.
My back begins to ache.  I must've hit it on the rail of the bridge, but I didn't care.  Cold seeped through my veins and I found that I couldn't move.  I floated along in the current as breath began to leave me and I sank deeper and deeper into the water. 
All of a sudden a pair of hands grabbed me under my arms yanking me onto the river bank.  "Kid!" A gruff voice says to me. "Kid, can you hear me?" I finally place the voice to Francis and my eyes begin to focus on his and Martha's concerned faces above me.  Francis claps his hands loudly.  I can hear it, but almost as though from a distance, like an echo.  Then, Martha's voice comes.  "What's wrong with him?"  Francis doesn't reply, he's looking up at the bridge, where a figure is looking down at him, a slight smirk on his face.  I take notice of him now, trying to place him, but he's too far away and I'm too tired.  "Francis, what's wrong with him?" She asks again, looking over to him.  He looks back down at me now, gently patting the side of my face to help the cause.  "He's going to be fine, don't worry."  Martha nods slowly.  "But he didn't drown, and he seems to be awake, so why is he just staring like that."  Francis shakes his head deep in thought.  "I'm trying to figure this out."  Martha's eyes widen in shock.  "Is he...". Francis laughs a bit.  "No he's not dead,"  He claps his hands once more.  "Snap out of it, kid!"  Finally, with all my might I focus on his clapping to pull me out of whatever state I was in.  My eyes blinked multiple times and I looked around noticing Martha and Francis staring down at me.  "Well it's about time."  He says finally.  I sit up abruptly looking around for Simon, when I finally recognize the pain that flashes through me.  I gasp in shock and flop back down onto the bank, just wanting to sleep.  "What-the-hell-happened."  I say in short bursts of forced speech.  "From which part do you want me to explain it." Francis says impatiently lifting up my soaked shirt to examine my ribs.  "The part where I fell into the river." I say letting my head fall to the side.  Neither of them say anything.  "Can you stop that?"  I say, yanking my shirt down over my pants.  I let out a sigh and lean up almost heading Francis in the face.  "I'll be fine."  I say stubbornly getting to my feet.  "It's nothing." 
Francis stares at me with his eyebrows raised.  "You're a terrible liar."  He says.  I wipe my face with my hands and shake my head.  "Nope."  I smile slightly.  "We need to find Simon."

Francis put a hand on my shoulder.  "Kid..."  He says softly.

I shake my head, cutting him off.  "He's fine, but we need to find him, now."

Martha looks to Francis, her eyes begin to tear up.  "He's gone, Jonathan."

The world seems to pause at that moment, Martha's face sympathetic, Francis' the same.  The river slowly laps at the shore and I feel my eyes begin to well up.  "He can't be."

Martha points to the bridge and nods.  "We saw him fall."  She says quietly.

I sprint up the slope of the river and make my way to the bridge, which was usually bustling with cars in a hurry, was now deserted.  I run as quickly as I can until finally I'm standing where I can see it.  Where I can see him.  Simon's body lays unmoving on the pavement.  My legs begin to carry me over sloppily without my brain informing them to, and I kneel down beside him.  "You don't deserve this."  I say, glaring up at the tipped platform.  "He however, does."  

I hear the clipping of Martha's heels on the ground behind me, and Francis close behind.

"I'm sorry, Jonathan."  He says, using my name for the first time.  It doesn't sound normal, which fits the situation perfectly.  

I don't reply, which I know is rude when somebody is attempting to comfort me, but I can't.  I just...can't.

I feel rage bubbling to the surface as I stare down the road at a motionless figure, dressed all in black, staring at me from a distance.  Even before the name comes to my brain, my lips form it.  "Matthew."  I say.  "You did this."  My eyes go to slits and I rise to my feet, beginning to sprint across the road, not quite sure what I am going to do when I get there, but still, I run.  

The voice begins to laugh in my head and still, I run.  I sprint until I'm standing face to face with him.  I think of May and how my rage took over and I punched her.  I want to do the same now, but I don't feel like it would be enough.  However, it's still a start.  My fist goes back, but before it can make contact, I feel myself beginning to slip away into nothing, and soon everything is black once more, fading away, Matthew laughing with it.