Aftermath

        This has to be a dream.  I thought to myself.  I glanced from the road to the passenger seat.  There she was, my best friend, beautiful blonde hair and icy blue eyes, lightly tanned, almost perfect skin, as gorgeous as ever.  Quickly, I returned my attention to the road, traffic was the worst part of living in Savannah and I hated driving in it.  Suddenly I was witnessing this scene as a passenger inside of my own body.  Instantly, I panicked, as everything became familiar to me---already knowing the outcome.  Still the events continued to play out, beyond my control.  I started to slow down as we were approaching the stop light at Mall Street, but before I reached the light, it changed, and I returned my foot to the accelerator.  Don't go!   I thought.  I tried to speak.  No words escaped my mouth.  

I again took my attention from the road to Michelle's beautiful face.  I could remember a time when I felt so much more for her, when she was the person who made me feel the happiest, and looking at her always made me smile.  "Shell," I spoke her name. She turned to face me, she always looked so care free and happy.  Before I could say anything, an exploding boom filled my ears. The sound of shattering glass erupted. The air bags burst in our faces.  Still the car kept moving---now even beyond the control of this version of myself.  Confusion washed over me in an enormous wave, as if it were happening all over again.  I could feel the car flip off the ground over, and over -- her screams so horrifying, they were enough to shatter every piece of glass within a mile.

       I woke up, soaked in sweat, chest pounding at every beat of my heart, and breathing as if I had just finished running a marathon.  A chill shot down my spine and exploded across my entire body.  The dream was so vivid and lifelike.  I thought I was done having this nightmare.  I could still remember waking in the hospital two months after the accident, my sister at my side, tears of joy spilled from her eyes when she realized I was awake.

"Where's Michelle?" I demanded to know.  Felicia looked at me and the color drained from her face at the mention of my question.  She started to explain the accident to me, and everything that happened.  Her voice was shaky, as if she were reliving the whole traumatic experience over again.  My mind was numb.  I couldn't even empathize with her feelings nor could I process my surroundings.  The silence in the hospital buzzed and rattled inside my ears, it was more pestering than the sound of a dozen sirens.  

"Apparently, an eighteen-wheeler failed to stop at the light and plowed right through your car. Witnesses said that the car flipped six or seven times before the truck was finally able to stop. When EMS arrived at the scene of the accident, both you and Michelle were in critical condition, and of course they rushed you both to the hospital. They say that she suffered several critical injuries to the head from the flipping of the car. There wasn't much they could do. She survived, but the doctors say she is in some sort of coma, something they've never seen before. From the way they explained it, they don't think she is ever going to recover."  When the explanation came, it was as if my senses dulled.  My sister's voice sounded like a light murmur and suddenly seemed as if she were sitting at a terrible distance from me.  

       I remember losing every tangible feeling in my body, everything just went numb. She was one of my closest friends; I had known her for years, and now she was practically dead. Why can't I let it go? I thought to myself.  It had been a year since the car accident, and the dreams had stopped happening as frequently, but they still haunted me when I least expected it.  Michelle still hadn't recovered, and my visits to the hospital had become much less frequent.  I was back to work, and my hours were finally returning to normal.  I still couldn't bring myself to speak though, or to look anyone in the eyes. I couldn't touch anyone, nor could I bare to be touched.  

       I finally gathered the energy to pull myself out of my bed and into the bathroom which was just on the other side of my bedroom. The floor was cold on my feet as I pressed them onto the tiled floor in the bathroom, and I could hardly stand it.  I stopped to glance at my reflection in the mirror. It was as if every time I looked at myself I remembered, yet again, what the doctors had told me.  They mentioned to me that my brain activity while I was unconscious was abnormal, and due to the injuries to my head and back they were certain nothing would ever feel the same again. They were right about that, nothing did feel the same against my bare skin, it seemed like everything had been intensified.  I couldn't even imagine what it would be like to touch another person, just to think about it sent an excruciating chill down my spine.  

I returned my focus to the image in the mirror before me revealing my features ; my five foot, ten inch height, my buzzed short dark-brown hair, half open light-brown-nearly-yellow eyes, with softly tanned skin, and a slim but fit frame, just standing there staring back at me.  Something about the way my eyes looked now---made my reflection unfamiliar.  Deep down.  In my soul.The accident had changed something.  

       Everything I touched even myself, reminded me of why I just couldn't bare a human touch. Just the touch of simple things, like a door or my keys, was so intense it was almost unbearable. I started the shower and removed my clothes, which consisted of shorts and boxers, before getting in. The shower was just as intense, I could feel every separate drop of water hitting my head and back, and it was almost as if I could feel more than that. It was as though I could feel more than just the texture that presented itself, as though I could feel every molecule that constructed whatever I touched. I hurried through the shower, mornings were always the worst part of the day, trying to acquire immunity to the intensified feelings behind touching ... just anything.

       There was a silver lining though, after the lawsuit against the Jones Moving Company, finances would never really be an issue. I had most of the things I could want, I had a beautiful three bedroom house in an upper-class neighborhood, a brand new Honda Civic Si which I had always wanted, and plenty of money to spend. Although, I still didn't have Michelle, and my lack of desire for conversation made relationships with some of my friends---interesting---non-existent more or less.  I walked across the hall and back into my bedroom to dress, grabbed my keys, and left for class.

       I arrived to class early, which was normal, and waited for everyone else to arrive as well.  The old auditorium style lecture-room had an itchy-mold smell to it.  The far wall was constructed of several single-pane windows, which allowed plenty of light to flow into the room.  I could see dust particles floating in the air and the thought of it made me gag.  The carpet on the floor was a dull-frayed-gray and I was sure that the moldy smell wafted up from it.  As always my thoughts ran wild, trying to imagine how many hundreds of other people had traveled this room before me.  

A few minutes passed, and several other people came in for class, and the sounds of voices began to fill the room, snapping me back to reality. Before long the class fell abruptly silent, and that was when she walked in. 

Alana, gracefully walked across the room and found her seat next to me, capturing everyone’s attention with her amazing sense of fashion and outstanding good looks. She always insisted on the most recent trends for today’s “preppy-girl” look and the most popular name brands. 

Alana was extraordinarily beautiful, none of her features were ridiculously exaggerated; very long maple colored brown hair, her dark-brown eyes, held such simple beauty it made it hard to stare for any amount of time.  She had an oh-so-petite appearance, and her amazingly smooth-looking, yellow-brown skin, fascinated me in a way I could never fully describe.
She was one of the most beautiful Asian women I had ever met, she reminded me of the women who stood in front of cars just before a drift race somewhere in Tokyo. She was sexy, seductive, but mostly--to me, she was beautiful, the kind of beautiful that when you see it, you know it's unique.  Alana and I had been friends for quite some time, close to three years, and I knew that with my personality adjustment, our friendship was more of a chore for her now.

       "Morning Ryan!" She greeted me, perky and pleasant, as always. 

My thoughts were focused now, no longer running madly through my head, instead they stood still on her words. I looked at her and halfheartedly smiled. 

"I can see you're doing well!?! Thought I would tell you that I spoke to Travis today, he says 'hey'!" she carried on this conversation with me, but with herself more or less. This was routine for her, at first she seemed to be angry with me for my lack of speech, but now, it seemed more like something she expected.

       I thought about what she said---it had been a while since she mentioned Travis to me.  I imagined she must have known how much I missed him.  Her mention of his name, though, was brief. 

I hadn't seen him since a month before the accident, the day he left to start training with the FBI, he worked in computer forensics on a special investigations unit. When he had returned from training, I was still at rest in a coma at the hospital, but he was hardly home due to his frequent work. Surely, he stopped in to see me, but since no one ever made mention of it, I wasn't really sure. 

Travis was one of my close friends.  He accepted me for the person I was, and helped me realize living with my bisexuality was to be dismissed as nothing more than average and that was where our friendship stemmed from.  Things were different though, he wasn't here now, and if he were, what could he do?  How could he help me feel like myself again?  I had nearly killed Michelle, and I could barely live with that.  She was hurt because I needed someone to talk to---needed a shoulder to lean on.  

In fact---I was almost glad of his absence.  Travis always had a knack for being very persistent when it came to my stubbornness, he always pushed me to feel better regardless of the issue. This though, this was different, I don't think that I would have been able to stomach his cheerful persistence, and that was what I was glad for.

       I snapped back to reality to notice Alana staring, scrutinizing me.  I raised my eyebrows and gestured as if to ask "what?".

"Couldn't you bare just a simple 'hello'? I mean I can hardly stand it anymore Ryan. I feel like I am fighting for you, and no matter what I say or do, I'm still losing. Can you please just stop this?!" She demanded. 

I stared at her blankly, here I was thinking she was finally getting used to the one-sided conversations. I thought for a second, maybe it wouldn't hurt to say something. I continued to stare at her, lost for just a moment in thought. --NO! My mind snapped back at me. Of course it would hurt, I couldn't even think of how to form the words to speak to her, not even for the simple "hello" she had asked for.

"I am not going to keep doing this with you now Ryan, a year is long enough. I have class with you, and I work with you, and still you say nothing, not to me, or to anyone!" She was nearly yelling at this point. I wanted to apologize, but still the words didn't come.

Professor Jones finally arrived rushing through the door, her appearance just as usual; almost formal pants and blouse, very short and unkempt grey hair, with well-aged, wrinkled skin. The ninety minute lesson went by slower than usual, maybe it was because my mind kept wandering to the things that Alana had said to me. Physics was one of my favorite subjects, and yet, today it seemed as though I was the furthest thing from intrigued.

Professor Jones finally dismissed class, and I gathered my belongings. 

"It would be nice if you joined me for lunch later, but I'm sure that you'll text me with some excuse about why you don't think you should come." Alana told me, but it was as if her words came out dead, and without expression. 

I looked at her for a moment, and without thought, I shrugged my shoulders.  I could see the disapproval in her eyes, it hurt me to know that she was being hurt by this, but what could I do?  I watched her walk off, and everything inside of me screamed for me to call her back.  The thought lingered there for a moment, and still, I said nothing.  On my way out the door I stopped at Professor Jones’ desk to drop the assignments that were due, and continued out of the lecture-room.

       "--Okay, I'll catch you later, man!" an unfamiliar voice which seemed to come from nowhere erupted just an inch or so from me. I barely had a chance to realize what was about to happen.

 "--Ouch!" I almost barked at him. 

"Hey, sorry!" He told me apologetically. I was glancing about myself to be sure that everything was still intact. 

When I finally pulled my attention forward, he was staring blankly at me, and for a brief moment I was lost in a gaze. His eyes, as ordinary as any, dark brown, almost black, and clearly the most captivating thing I had ever seen---it was as though an entire galaxy had formed there to create the beauty of those eyes!  I had always been fascinated with eyes, it was an odd weakness of mine, something you can't really describe. 

When I had realized that I was staring, I shut my eyes and held them tightly closed for just a moment.

"Are you gonna let me by?" He asked playfully. I stepped aside---a look of irritation clearly plastered on my face---and he passed through to the classroom. I listened as I walked off---

"What's the hurry, Anthony? You're early ... as usual." I could hear Professor Jones’ fragile voice, which now seemed distant, as I continued on my way. I heard him speak, his voice was deep, but soft, and I couldn't make out what he was saying.

       When I got home, I grabbed my cell phone from the table where I had left it the night before, and wrote a message to Alana. I apologized for not being able to make lunch and told her I was going to catch up on some sleep, I had done that a lot in the last year---sleep!  

Since I was no longer the Assistant Manager at Best Buy, and I was now just a computer technician, I had plenty of extra time on my hands. I stepped down from the manager position after the accident. The position required a lot of communication with the other employees and managers, and quite often with customers too. I couldn't stand the constant effort it took to speak, which is what influenced my decision. 

So now, sleep was my only escape from the world around me, and, it was also a constant reminder of everything terrible in my life.  Occasionally, though, I slept well dreaming mostly of nothing. I laid silently in my bed, and let my thoughts wander.  I thought about how much had already happened today, jumping from Alana's words to me, and then to the unfamiliar run-in with the Anthony character, and how it somehow seemed to make my day great.

       I woke up to my alarm buzzing loudly on the end-table next to my bed.  I reached over, and when identifying the correct switch, I turned it off.  I sat up and glanced at the time.  I realized I was running a few minutes behind schedule, and instantly, I got out of bed to dress for work.  My uniform was simple; khaki pants and a blue shirt that read "Best Buy" on one side and "Ryan Garcia, Technician" on the other. The ride to work was like any other, long and aggravating, traffic was always terrible at this time in the evening. Eventually, though, I made it to work.  I almost wished that I hadn't though.  Alana was getting her register drawer when she noticed my arrival, and I could see that she wasn't happy with me for bailing on her at lunch.

"You know," she said walking up to me, drawer in hand, and stopped. 

"I don't even know why I bother with you anymore, Ryan!" she finished angrily.

I went over to one of the computers near the customer service area and clocked in. I could feel Alana's piercing stare still on me, but I disregarded it, and continued to the back of the store to the technician's desk.

       I had plenty of work to get started on, but for some reason I didn't, instead I just stared at the screen saver on the computer before me. An hour or so seemed to pass and still no work.  Again my mind floated to thoughts of Anthony, running into him.  My body tingled at the recollection---the thought of touching him.  I could hardly remember what he looked like.  But his eyes.  That was what stood out to me.  That was the memory I kept going back to.  I started a game of solitaire to keep busy and it seemed to help time go by with a little more ease. 

"Excuse me?" a now familiar voice asked for my attention.

Why did you sit here, why aren't you working on something in the back? I asked myself silently. I saw Alana from the corner of my eye as she emerged from the break room, stopping to see if I was going to answer the customer I hadn't even acknowledged.

"Excuse me!" The voice demanded, now, sounding a bit more firm. I looked up in acknowledgment, and to my surprise, it was him.  I was astonished.  I almost struggled to catch my breath.  His voice, however unexpected, was like a silky hum to my ears.  I felt warmth rising to the surface of my cheeks, my chest and even my arms.  It was almost overwhelming.  

       Anthony stood there waiting for me to answer. This time, though, I stopped to take a more complete notice to his features; he stood about five foot, eight inches tall, average in size with a muscular body tone, the muscles and veins in his arms were, in fact, quite prominent, he had very short, dark hair, and the most amazing caramel-complected skin. He looked Latino, although, I certainly wasn't going to ask. I again took notice to his eyes---gulp--- which were still just as dark and intoxicating, and for a brief moment everything else seemed insignificant.  My thoughts stood still now, and he spoke again. 

"Excuse me," he squinted his eyes to read my name.

"Ryan." He said, trying to sound a bit more professional.

I hated when people used my name to address me in conversation like he had, it seemed too formal and almost spiteful.  His voice was deep, and masculine, but elegant and pleasant as he said my name, and this made it more aggravating to hear.

       "How old do you have to be to work here? Is it eighteen or twenty-one?" he asked. I cleared my throat, and turned to meet Alana’s dazed expression. 

"Eighteen." Alana said softly. Thank you Alana! Was all I could think. I turned back to him for his response. 

“What? You can’t speak for yourself?” he asked me curiously.  I stared at him for a second and thought about answering. 

“No, he chooses not to speak, hasn't for a whole year, amazing, and annoying at the same time.  But, that’s not really an appropriate question.  Is there anything else we can help you with today, sir, maybe you’d like an application?” Alana said. Her tone was proper, but comfortable at the same time. In fact I would have imagined the whole scene differently in my head.  

“Well, I doubt he’ll stay quiet much longer, although, I don‘t blame him. There‘s not much to say, these days.” Anthony said smiling in Alana‘s direction. 

“You would be surprised, he could probably stay like that forever, if he wanted.” She said, grimly. He directed his attention, now, to me and smiled crookedly. 

“But yeah, I would like an application, though!” I opened the drawer to the filling cabinet next to me and reached in for the stack of applications, and handed him one. 

“Thanks!” He said now with a sarcastic-sounding happiness in his tone. He stood there, looking over the application and then glanced back at me. I wasn't sure if he was waiting for something else to be said but, before the moment became awkward, I turned my attention back to the computer screen in front of me.

“That was…odd.” Alana said quietly, and I turned to look at her.

“You know, you can’t stay mute forever, you’re going to have to speak up sooner or later, because I won‘t always be there to save you!  Really, I should have let you answer him yourself, I know you wanted to, it was written all over your face. Honestly, I don’t even understand what the point in all this is.” She sounded a little rough, now, in comparison with how she had sounded when she was talking with Anthony.  I tried to look critical, so that she could see that I disagreed, but I knew she was right. I had to stop guilting myself for what happened to Michelle, there was nothing I could do about the outcome even if I could go back. Fate must have had a reason for everything, although, I could not see one.

       Alana was already on her way back to her register, so she could get back to work, and I was quietly speculating over the last ten minutes. There was something about Anthony, that seemed to bother me in an odd way, maybe it was familiar personality. I had only known him from the recent but brief run-ins we’d had, but something still stood out to me. He seemed, secure and confident about himself, but still different and shy, almost like a new student on their first day at a new school. Whatever the case, I was certain, I was going to figure it out eventually.

       The end of my shift came quickly, and I was on my way out, when Alana stopped me.

“Ryan, maybe we can grab something to eat together?” She asked me, sounding a bit uncertain. I reached into my pocket for my cell phone so I could text her a response.

“Not tonight, I’m sorry, I’m just not very hungry.” I wrote the message quickly and then hit send.  I continued walking out the door and to my car, thinking about the events of the day.  I reached for my keys to unlock the door to my car, but something was wrong.  I could feel everything intensified as usual, but I was more aware of it. It seemed stronger now, usually I was able to block out my strengthened sense of touch at least until the next morning, but not tonight.

       There it was, brittle and rough, like I had placed my hand on a hot grill, burning through my skin, to my nerves. Dizziness washed over me like an ocean wave breaking over my body.  I tried to walk faster, to get into my car as quickly as possible.  I just wanted to be able to sit down.  My vision began to blur.  I could feel every step I took rumble through my whole body.  I felt my keys fall from my hand a few steps from my car.  I was just hoping that the remote had worked and the doors were unlocked.  

A loud ringing sound erupted in my ears as I reached for the door handle, then everything went black, and I felt my head hit the pavement.  An icy-cold feeling spread from my core, outward, through the rest of my body as consciousness slipped away from me.  It felt as though I were falling.  The same falling feeling I would sometimes get in-between being awake and asleep at night.  The sensation haunted me.  It felt as if there were nothing beneath me and panic began to surface in my mind.  Before I knew it; all feelings seemed to disappear and I was left alone in what felt like an abyss of nothing.  

　

Reviews

[Jake Botha]

Jacob,

With my reviews I try to be as thorough as I can be. I mostly comment on how I experienced the first read through. How I found the characters and over all structure of the chapter. Then move into more detail on things lacking or that can do with improvement.

And it can become a bit long winded at times... Hopefully it will help and be clear enough.

Characters/Descriptions

You take enough time to describe the people in this story. Filling in who they are in some way, but leaving enough room for the reader to color their personalities. As an avid reader, I appreciate this the most about authors. I want to know how these people look so that I can connect a face to the name.

It is also true that we as writers might sometimes hide who we are inside some of our main characters. I do not know if you employ the same technique, but I use certain personality traits of my own for each set of characters and amplify them in them. Some however are merely conjured up personalities.

As for your main character, Ryan, you take time to explain who he is, but you break it up in pieces and slowly inform the reader piece by piece who he is. If we try and force to much info on a reader at once, it can be to much. So well done in this regard. You have made the character even more interesting by weaving in small details, for example his sexuality adds a new layer of complexity to him already. He isn't just your regular guy. He is someone who understands who he is and shows a willingness to experiment. He also shows attraction to both male and female characters. He is well thought out. He merely isn't just a set of personalities. He is who he is.

One thing you should watch out for is using the same descriptions when describing different sets of characters. You use the following line "seemed endless" when describing both Alana and Anthony's eyes. You will have to rephrase those parts. I do the same thing. To improve on this, I merely write what comes to mind and when I am done with a section I take the time to read it through and take note that I do not use repetitive descriptions or words. You can very easily restructure a sentence or use another word to describe the same thing. But in phrasing it differently it can improve your work a lot.

You do take the time in describing the people who populate the world of this character, but there isn't a lot of scene construction. His surroundings are unclear. I keep wondering how his house looks like? Is it messy or tidy? The classroom?

Building and describing the world your characters live in is just as important. The surroundings can sometimes be used to display the current state of mind of the character as well.

the fact that he has remained silent for so long is an interesting part of his character as well.

Tone/Mood/Structure

The tone and mood of the chapters is done well as well. I feel the nervousness of Ryan and his fear of the world around him. I feel locked inside of his mind. You also make use of first person perspective in the writing of the story, so you can supply the reader with more intimate details and thoughts of the protagonist. You have the upper hand here to build a more suspenseful sense of fear about his aversion to physical contact. Build more on the emotional side. I haven't read the next chapter yet, so you might have employed this technique a bit later in the story, rendering this statement moot.

Also throughout the chapter and at the start you employ the same phrase or word to describe actions taking place. Look out for that, because, as I have said, it can become repetitive and the reader might skim over the words.

There is some grammatical errors and restructuring needed. Some sentences can be broken up into separate parts.

Another trick you can employ to carry over his nervous response to things is to shorten the sentences. Short and curt. It leaves a sense of urgency. You feel the stilted thoughts.

As for the opening paragraph. The first line is interesting enough, but try to think of something that might pop out more. It is the first line and paragraph that wins or loses the reader.

The break from the dream to reality is also a bit blurred. Maybe try and construct the first part a bit more unclear. Like a dream. And if it is a night terror, as it surely sounds like. Slam that terror with all your might. Emphasize the horror of what is taking place. Draw the reader in with surreal terror.

Jacob, other than that, this has only been a light review. I could go into it in more detail and point out more things I noticed that might work better if phrased differently. That I will do upon request.

The story is intriguing and it opens with strength. Though you can build more on its strengths to make the impact greater.

It is safe to say that the character intrigued me enough to read on.

If there is anything you would like to know or if there is something unclear about what I said, just let me know and we can talk t out.

Kind Regards,

Jake

[Jacob Rodriguez]

Jake,

I just wanted to thank you for your review. It was very well written, and detailed perfectly. I find everything you said to be helpful, and in honesty, I have read over my earlier chapters enough that I feel lazy about making the corrections. You're tips were just what I needed to go back and make things a little more interesting. I can't wait to hear your thoughts on the remaining chapters!!!

Thanks,
J. Rodriguez

[Jacob Rodriguez]

Your*

[Nightingale]

Lovely beginning and an intriguing setting. The characters I have met so far are very interesting!

[Helis C. A. Keller]

This is a great story. I can tell you put a lot of work into it. I think you did a great job at painting a picture, not just telling a story. I do think that you might give too much detail at times, however. Maybe a little mystery is a good thing at times. But I wouldn't really change anything except making the "flashbacks" a bit more obvious. I would sometimes forget if I were in the present or if I were reliving his accident, hospital stay, etc. All in all, though, better than a lot of what I've read on this site and in this genre in general.

[Jacob Rodriguez]

Thank you very much I appreciate the feedback, and I am really glad you took the time to read it and write me a review!

[Kaylor Mason]

This is really good--I especially like the part about Ryan losing his voice after a great trauma in his life (that's very true-to-life and real, by the way.) I wrote about that in three pieces I've got posted up here: A Loner's Truth, The Sun Is Rising, and a Beautiful Friendship--those three are all autobiographical of me. (I invite ou to read them) They really happened, and to some extent they still are; for me writing is effortless, martial arts practice is easy and comforting on the soul, in the quiet solitude of the dojo--talking and socializing, making friends or--God help me--asking a girl out on a date--is more exhausting than digging ditches, and also terrifying to the bone. That's what my life is like. I find I admire (or at least sympathize) with this Ryan Garcia character.

[Sashalee]

great poem :)