The Mask of Death | Teen Ink

The Mask of Death

March 26, 2014
By Kayla Harris BRONZE, Gold Run, California
Kayla Harris BRONZE, Gold Run, California
2 articles 0 photos 0 comments

A powerful thump sounded as I watched the boy from our 4th grade class fall off of the top of the really big, bright green slide. As he hit the ground, everyone watched and gasped when he did not move again. He just lay there, motionless with the bright Georgia sun shining in his soft, milk chocolate colored hair. Finally, a little girl, I think her name is Anna, rushed forward to help him up but he was out, cold. A scream, to my right, snapped me out of my reverie and into motion. I ran towards the little boy and rolled him over onto his back. My knees stung as the hot, red astro-turf bit into my skin and my hands shook as they flitted over his body, waiting for an order. My mind was in shambles and the only thoughts running through my head were, What if he dies? What if I could have saved him? What if. I hate that phrase, there were so many possibilities and variables tied to the phrase what if. All my life, every decision I made was based on that question, including the countless hours I spend taking perfect notes thinking, What if its on the test? and the morning I woke up and found out my parents were going to get a divorce, What if they still love each other?. I was done with the question What if. I was going to save this little boy no matter what it took. As I examined his body, my friend Amber sat down beside me and watched my face.

“Are you okay?” She asked with a look of concern as she brushed a piece of curly blond, almost white, hair.

“Yes, I'm fine, but we need to get a grown up or something because the little boy is really hurt.” I responded with an effort trying to make my words clear. When I speak I had a little bit of trouble with my R sounds, they always came out like W’s and it was very frustrating.
“Okay, ill run and get someone.” Amber replied as she stood. I watched as she sprinted around the corner and towards the office and noticed the she had gotten blood on her cute pink and white polk-a-dotted pants. I slowly looked down and screamed as I noticed that I was sitting in a pool of warm, thick, and red blood that was flowing out of the gash in Adam Benlings face. I couldn't stop the blood, no matter what I did. As he lay there, resting in my arms, I watched the life go out in his eyes...he was gone.

(8 years later)

With a laugh, I picked up my bright blue Jansport backpack off of the cold, white, and sterile stone floor of my chemistry class. Amber was standing over me and waiting so we could leave and head to my car with a relaxed expression on her face.
“Come on dude. I mean seriously? Hurry up, I can barely stand being here for an hour but for days? No...I can’t do it.” Amber joked with a mock look of annoyance on her face.
“Fine you want to complain? You can walk your ass home as far as I’m concerned.” I said with nonchalance and went even slower than before.
“Fine!” She said with exasperation and slapped my butt as hard as she could. I winced and stood with my backpack in my hand.
“What were you trying to do? Slap the B out of my Butt?” I said as I rubbed my sore cheek. She laughed and shook her head as she started to walk out of the classroom.
“You coming?” She responded with a sweet I didn’t do anything wrong tone. She flicked one of her perfect blond ringlets and glided out of the room expecting me to follow. I rolled my eyes and continued in her quake, wincing as my injured butt came into contact with the edge of a wooden desk.
After finding my way through the maze of hallways and classrooms that make up my school, I caught up with Amber next to our cars. She leaned against the black door of her 4-door Chevy and watched as I approached.
“And she made it alive!” She shouts with a smile. I glared at her and pressed the button to unlock the doors of my V10 touareg Volkswagen.
“Why are you teasing me so much today? I just don't get it.” I told her as I opened the drivers door and started the car so it could heat up. I put the heaters on full blast, trying to block out the freezing, 27 degree air outside.
“I don't know, you just seem down today. I want to cheer you up.” She said as she started her car as well. With both of our cars started and heaters blasting, it became hard to talk so the we both decided that it was best to just go home. After we said our goodbyes and hugged, I hopped into the drivers seat, popped the emergency break, and pulled out of my parking space. I followed Amber’s car to the entrance and then we split, her going towards Georgetown and me towards the vineyards.
The next morning, I roll out of bed and stumble down the cold wooden stairs to the kitchen. Grabbing a bowl out of the cupboard and the milk out of the fridge, I made myself a “healthy” breakfast of lucky charms. After I get a spoon, I grab my bowl and I walk into the living room so I can turn on the news while I eat. As I take my first mouthful, I notice that there was a black 4-door Chevy crumpled into a ball, Wow, it looks like paper. Shrugging, I took another bite of cereal and looked at the screen again which caused me to choke. After coughing up the red balloon that had been lodged in my thought, I reached onto the arm of my couch and hit rewind. The picture showed and the reporter said, “Yesterday, at 4:15 pm, young Amber Watson died in a terrible car wreck…” Everything faded into nothing and all I could hear was the ringing in my ears as I stared at the picture of my best friend, my sister, who had died the night before. I didn't even know. I thought as reality finally hit me, as hard and as dangerous as a boulder rolling down a hill. Seconds ago it had squashed me, my life, and my future. With a scream of despair, I collapsed to the ground just as my parents ran through the door.
“Oh honey,” my Mom said, “I’m so sorry.”
I just cried and lay there, clutching onto my head trying to preserve it from exploding. Nothing would ever be okay again. Death had come and taken her from me, just as a masked figure would in the night. She was gone, just like that kid from 4th grade who had died in my hands. Nothing would ever be the same again.


The author's comments:
I wanted to express the importance of appreciating what we have for every second that we live because at any point in time, it could be taken.

Similar Articles

JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This article has 0 comments.