Fade to black

Yeah, back then.

It took so long for the pain of missing her to finally fade into a dull ache. I didn't know how desperate I was to hear any news of where she was until Chris offered it.

I didn't trust him. He wasn't just a year or two older than me, he was six years older than me. I thought he was some kind of sicko, the way he followed me around and was always drawing me. He was infatuated, fixated, and he made me nervous. Nervous in a bad way.

I had tried everything to get him to back off. I tried being nice. I tried being mean. Then I came to the point of just ignoring that he existed, which was hard as hell because he was always right behind me no matter where I was. (There were times I'd caught him outside my house at night.) He was just always there. And it creeped me out to the core.

So when he said he had news, I jumped. I wanted, needed to know that she was okay.

"Just fucking tell me, Chris." I was at the point to where I wanted to beat the shit out of him.
He had this goofy smirk on his face. He knew exactly what he was doing. "I'll tell you tomorrow. Come to my house. Around ten," he said,he glanced around us. "I'll tell you then."

It pissed me off. What pissed me off more was that he was sitting where she would sit when she watched me skate. That was her spot. But with him sitting there, I couldn't see her. I couldn't feel her and I wanted to, so bad. Who did he think he was anyway? Did he think that he could just take her place in my life? Did he think I would ever let him in? He was crazy and the more I think about it, so was I for letting him follow me. I should have called the cops, or better yet, Grandpa.

Nothing felt the same anymore. School started and everyone asked for her. They asked me so many times that I got tired of answering. So I wrote a story. A story of the summer my best friend had ran away. I made copies. Tons of copies and every time they asked, I'd hand them the paper. It hurt to talk about her. It hurt to think about her. It hurt to be in the places that we would go to. It hurt to be without her.

The next day, I woke up before the sun as usual. I grabbed my board and hit the concrete, heading up to the old rec hall. I worked on my street skating not for any other reason than it hurt too much to go to the ramp. I just couldn't do it anymore. I was so angry but so confused at what exactly I was angry about. Was it her? Was it her father? Was it myself for not making her leave with me that night? Or maybe, I was mad at Chris. For stalking me and never giving us any privacy. Fuck it! I was mad at the world and how unfair life seemed to be for most. That was the day I embraced the "fuck the world" attitude that I later became famous for.

I had no idea what time it was, but I didn't want to wait much longer for any information about her. I headed towards his house...ten streets then right. Two streets then another right. I got a bad feeling before I even walked up to the door. I didn't want to be there alone and it was stupid for me to go there. I turned around. I was going to go back and get Shane. I had told him about the meeting but I forgot to ask him to come with.

I dropped my board and stepped down when his front door opened.
"I thought I heard you out here," he grinned.
"Listen, I'm gonna go to the ramp. If you wanna tell me, tell me there. If not, then I really don't fucking care," I said, putting both feet on my board.
"No, no," he waved. "It will just take a second. I wanna show you something anyway. A drawing I did of the two of you." He walked out to the street to meet me. "Please come in?"

You know when you feel like you should run and scream bloody murder but your body feels like dead weight and you can't move? That's exactly what I felt. I just knew that going in his house was not going to be good. I had to make a plan, and fast. I glanced around looking for any signs of life, any windows open, anyone driving around in their cars. I wanted someone else to see me there. But there was no one.

"I don't wanna come in, Chris. I'll sit on the front steps but I don't want to go in," I explained. The words that wanted to leave my throat were how I thought he was weird and would probably chop me up in pieces or something.

There was a strange bewilderment in his eyes. He was looking at me like I was a prized possession or a t-bone steak and I started to shake. Not because I was scared but because I was grossed out. He noticed.

"Okay, the steps are just fine." He grabbed my hand. His hand was sweaty and sticky.
I pulled my hand away and shook my head. "Don't. Don't touch me, Chris. I mean it."
He put both his hands up in the air. "No problem."

I kicked up my board and followed him to the stairs. I sat on the bottom step, with my back against the railing and my board sitting on my lap. I knew how to use it as a weapon if I needed to. He went inside and came out with a stack of papers and two glasses of tea. I took the offered glass without even thinking about it. I was too interested in the papers.

"Its apple tea. It has a tang to it, but you'll like it," he smiled. "My mom made it."

I took a sip. He was right about the tang but it also had a burn to it that I couldn't figure out. But it was sweet and cold, so I kept drinking.
One by one, he handed me his sketches. He might have been a weird ass freak but he was definitely an amazing artist. He could catch a moment of time and make you feel it. I laughed at the few he had of us playing mud football and the one's of Chow doing his famous back flips. I was glad to see that I wasn't the only one he was drawing. Half way through the pile, I finished my tea. He left me with his work while he refilled the glass. The deeper I got into the pile, the less I saw of my friends.

All of them were mostly me. One that I can really remember was of me running through my friends, playing mud football. But the only one that wasn't blurred was me. It was one of the coolest concepts I had ever seen and his knowledge of my muscle structure was dead on. I felt like I was looking in a mirror. But, most of all, I felt dizzy. Real dizzy.

I closed my eyes for a second to try to clear my head. When I opened them again, he was standing there with that glass of tea.
"Are you okay?" he asked as he knelt beside me.
"Yeah, I'm uh," I shook my head, "a little dizzy from your drawing. I think." I shuffled the drawing to the back of the pile and looked at the new page in front of me. That must have been it, I thought.
"Maybe you're a little overheated or something. It is pretty humid out here today." He sat down beside me and ducked to look at me.
"I'm okay," I decided. I didn't want him to think that I wasn't okay.

I kept looking at the pictures, pausing at the ones of her and me sitting on the curb. Everything began to get fuzzy and her face looked distorted. I was beginning to think that I was overheated, so I downed the rest of my tea. This time, when he got up to get me another drink, I told him that ice water would be better.

The world started spinning and it was then that I realized I was in trouble. I collected his art that was scattered across my board and placed it on the step above me. I had to get out of there. I had to leave. I tried to stand but everything was spinning so damn fast, I couldn't balance. I tried again, using my board as a crutch but it didn't help. Something was wrong, way wrong. He had to of put something in the tea. My last attempt at standing, I fell back and hit my head. Everything faded to gray then black. My last thought was, "Oh shit."