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I think I saw my friend die last night and tonight I need to see them again.
I can’t talk to anyone in my personal life about this, so I thought I should at least post it here, as a record of sorts. I’ve read a couple of similar stories on here, so I feel comfortable sharing my story, knowing that it won’t be judged for being unusual. Before I start I just want to clarify that I probably won’t be able to respond to any comments and that no matter how you feel about my story, don’t come looking for me.
Rory and I heard of each other’s existence on a TCG chat room. He championed the defensive tank build, where I would always prefer a hot-n-heavy agro deck. To say that we got off on the wrong foot, would be an understatement. We were consistently kicked from Discord servers for ‘inappropriate behaviour’ and a year ago we were even banned from our region’s tournament. It was after that, that we decided to meet in person.
“Ur gonna had 412 bones after im done breaking all of urs.”
“U fucking wish (redacted) im gonna rail u so hard, ur mom is gonna feel phantom pains in her ovaries.”
Neither of us had ever been in a real fight before, but we couldn’t let that stop us.
“5 pm, Kedron Brooke Bridge if I see u there ill bash u. So u better not show,” I wrote.
“See u then sunshine,” Rory sent with an attached image.
Like the child he was, he sent me an image of an obviously fake M1911. He had tried to paint over it, but I could still make out the gun’s orange tip. Was he really going to bring an airsoft gun to the bridge? To be on the safe side, I brought a steak knife with me. I wrapped it up in a paper towel so that it didn’t stab my thigh as I walked.
The Kedron Brooke River, which ran under the bridge, was a long winding river. During the wet seasons, it could rise to maybe five feet, compared to its normal three. During most seasons, it’s filled with algae, tadpoles and eels, each more slimy than the last. The bridge was built in the peak of the 80s, so it had a sort of brutally capitalist concrete nature to it. The river ran slowly, which allowed its murky orange and green layers to properly separate.
After we had set the time, we didn’t message each other to double-check. At the hour of our big fight, Rory was already there before me. We hadn’t uploaded pictures of ourselves to the chat rooms, so I didn’t know what to expect. He had gone home beforehand and changed into, what he would later call, his ‘kicking-ass outfit’. I don’t remember if it was the hotrod flames on his shirt or his khaki-camo shorts that made me laugh as I approached him, but I exploded. Apparently, my urban goth MCR-inspired outfit was amusing to him, because he started laughing shortly after I did.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” I pointed at his new, green DC skater shoes.
“Kicks, cooler than yours,” Rory riposted and pointed at my hand-me-down black Dr Martins.
As we continued to banter, we turned away from each other and looked over the edge of the bridge. A duck and its ducklings waddled into the river. “You got Mr Potato-head knees.” An old-man turtle breached the river’s surface. “Pincushion Pinocchio face.” As the sun went down, we ended up just watching the ripples on the river’s surface. “Bigtoed, frosted-tipped freak.”
After a solid hour of consensual roasting, I finally asked him, “Hey, so, What happened with your gun?”
Rory squinched his mouth and mumbled something under his breath, which I asked him to repeat. “Ughhh, so pretty much I went to leave the house and somehow my bitch mom knew it was in my bag and she literally confiscated it from me.”
A grin, not of superiority, but of relief came to my face. This kid, whom I had been feuding with online for years, was a loser, like me. We stayed on the bridge for what felt like ages, talking about almost everything, while the river turned to a dark, black-green. We talked about cheesy Japanese food, Interpol, X-files and of course, trading card games. I remember thinking that I had never had a friend like him before, someone I felt so comfortable to talk to. Someone I could see myself spending a lot of time with. We were both so awkward that we didn’t know how to say goodbye. So, as he walked backwards, shooting finger guns at me, I gave him a dramatic captain's salute. I didn’t think that he needed to know about the knife.
School life was as egregious as ever and home life didn’t change much either, but at 5 pm every afternoon, Rory and I met up at the bridge. Sometimes we would lean against the railing and verse each other in card games on our phones, one time I stole a vape from my older sibling and shared it with him, but most times, during that golden hour before nightfall, we talked. I never felt more present in the moment, than when I was on that bridge with him.
Last week, I ran late to our ‘appointment’, so I sent him a quick message, “sup bitch, imma be late cause I just can’t stand being around you lol.”
He didn’t respond, he didn’t even read the message.
I assumed that his phone was dead and since I live pretty close to the bridge, I just started walking. On the way I considered messaging him again, but I thought it could have come off as too needy, so I didn’t. Winter had just begun so the nights came earlier. As I started along the bridge, I saw that Rory was standing against the railing, looking down at the water.
“Oi, shithead!” I boisterously announced my presence, “You’re phone broken or what?”
He slowly pointed at the dark, still river below.
“He……he jumped.”
“What?”
“…but he’s there, under the water. Right there, can’t you see him?” Rory’s hand was shaking as he pointed to a seemingly random spot in the water.
“Dude, the river’s only a couple feet deep are you….feeling okay?”
Rory retracted his arm and turned away from the water, to me. As his eyes and mine met, I could tell he wasn’t joking. I broke one of our unspoken rules, physical contact, and put my hand on his arm.
“I’m sorry I was late Rory, can you tell me what happened?”
He salivated his dry mouth and cleared his throat before talking.
“I got here at 5ish and there was, this guy, standing on the bridge. He was looking over the edge and I didn’t want to talk to him, so I stood away from him. As I waited for you, I occasionally looked over to him and it kinda looked like he was talking to someone, but from where I was, I couldn’t see earphones or anything. Then out of nowhere, I looked over to him again and he was up on the railing. I didn’t know what to do and before I could say anything, he jumped. I ran over and looked down, but it was weird. There wasn’t a splash, I couldn’t hear or see anything, but then I saw him again, under the surface.”
After he finished, Rory glanced back at the water. I looked back down as well, but I couldn’t see anything. Rory was an asshat, but I didn’t think he would lie about something like this. So, I moved my hand down his arm to hold onto his hand and got my phone out of my jumper’s pocket.
“Let’s go find him,” I said as I switched on my phone’s torch.
We headed across the bridge and down the river bank. A couple of puppy-sized water rats darted away as we balanced our way across the rocks to the water’s edge. I shone my torch along the banks and rocks, to make sure the jumper didn’t crawl out of the water, onto the shoreline.
“Don’t bother Ruby, he’s still there,” Rory declared as he pointed at the river.
“Can you see him?” I said as I handed him the phone.
He waved it across the water’s surface a few times while I used a nearby branch to poke the water. After a couple of minutes, Rory handed me back my phone.
“He’s gone.”
“It’s okay man, we can call the police if you want?”
“No, he, never mind. Let’s just go home.”
I’m not the best at comforting people, I didn’t know if he needed a hug or a quip, so I didn’t do anything but walk. I wanted to hold him, but he was so distant, it was like he was on a different planet.
“Hey man, just letting you know im home now. Shoot me a thumbs up or sumthing to let me know u made it home,” my cool facade started to slip as my worry for Rory grew.
Rory was inactive on social media, and even his gamer profile was offline. I got too in my head about whether or not I should call him, I already had complicated feelings about him before he started hallucinating. We didn’t go to the same school and I didn’t know where he lived, so unless he messaged me back, I didn’t know where to find him.
I couldn’t stop thinking about him, about that night. Did he really see someone jump? Maybe I was too mean to him? My bus home from school travels across the bridge, that’s how I found him again. I looked up from my phone yesterday, just as we were crossing and I saw him, standing right where I found him before. I got off at the next station, which was about a mile away and although I was excited to see him again, I couldn’t help but wonder how long he was standing there. Did he actually go home?
“Rory?”
He was so still when I finally caught up to him, the sun was getting ready to leave us. The slow stream of shallow water, dribbled along the pebbles below us, as the wildlife grew quiet. The golden hour had begun.
“….how long have you been here Rory?” I didn’t look at the water.
“Dunno,” He was transfixed to the same spot as before.
“Is he still down there?” I didn’t want him to answer.
“Yeah.”
I clenched my eyes and then my fists. Why was he doing this? Why did I have to love him? I forced him to turn away from the water, to look at my face.
“Stop this! You need to stop Rory, this isn’t right!”
There was no emotion in his face and nothing was behind his eyes. This enraged me. I wished that I still had the knife on me, but I worked with what I had at my disposal.
“TALK, you FUCK!” I yelled, right before I hit him with a right hook to the face.
He recoiled, but only as much as any inanimate object would. Then he turned, with a bloodied nose, back to the water. At this point my tears were uncontrollable. Using my school uniform I tried to clean out my eyes as I turned and left him.
“He’s still down there…. I think he’s waiting for me to join him,” I heard him mutter behind my back.
“Fucking jump then!” I sobbed, without turning to face him.
He didn’t answer, again, but as I was walking away I felt something. It felt like someone’s eyes were on me and I don’t know why then of all times I did it, but I turned back to him. Rory was standing on the edge of the bridge, looking at me happily. By the time my face had reacted to his, he had leaned over the edge and disappeared under the bridge.
I screamed out his name, but it was useless. There was no warning, there was no splash. Rory was gone.
I ran over and although I was hesitant at first, I looked down to where he had fallen. In the absolute darkness that was the river, I thought I could see him. My memory is a bit blurry but I thought I could see him drowning.
The next thing I knew, it was early this morning. I had been staring at the river for over eight hours, only pulled out of that trance-like state by thirty-plus phone calls, from my family angrily worrying about me. I don’t know why I didn’t get help. Something about it, something about him, watching him under the water’s surface soothed me.
I spent most of today sleeping, besides being woken up by my parents. They either wanted to berate me for last night or to harass me about weekend chores. The arguments are routine at this point. I didn’t tell them about Rory, I don’t think I have ever told them about Rory. I don’t think today is a good day to tell them anyway.
In the dark corners of my room, in the reflections of my screens and behind my eyes when I blink, I can still see him, drowning. I see a long green tunnel of orange water, in which Rory is but a needle falling. I’m not particularly fond of cops and I don’t think my parents will entertain my story, but I need to do something. I need to tell someone. I know I’m writing this post, but I can’t explain it any further than I already have. I need to bring someone to the bridge.
Kit, my older sibling just got home and I asked them to come with me to the bridge. I haven’t told them the whole truth, but they said they would come, to see him.
At least now I won’t be alone.
#entertainment
source
I can’t talk to anyone in my personal life about this, so I thought I should at least post it here, as a record of sorts. I’ve read a couple of similar stories on here, so I feel comfortable sharing my story, knowing that it won’t be judged for being unusual. Before I start I just want to clarify that I probably won’t be able to respond to any comments and that no matter how you feel about my story, don’t come looking for me.
Rory and I heard of each other’s existence on a TCG chat room. He championed the defensive tank build, where I would always prefer a hot-n-heavy agro deck. To say that we got off on the wrong foot, would be an understatement. We were consistently kicked from Discord servers for ‘inappropriate behaviour’ and a year ago we were even banned from our region’s tournament. It was after that, that we decided to meet in person.
“Ur gonna had 412 bones after im done breaking all of urs.”
“U fucking wish (redacted) im gonna rail u so hard, ur mom is gonna feel phantom pains in her ovaries.”
Neither of us had ever been in a real fight before, but we couldn’t let that stop us.
“5 pm, Kedron Brooke Bridge if I see u there ill bash u. So u better not show,” I wrote.
“See u then sunshine,” Rory sent with an attached image.
Like the child he was, he sent me an image of an obviously fake M1911. He had tried to paint over it, but I could still make out the gun’s orange tip. Was he really going to bring an airsoft gun to the bridge? To be on the safe side, I brought a steak knife with me. I wrapped it up in a paper towel so that it didn’t stab my thigh as I walked.
The Kedron Brooke River, which ran under the bridge, was a long winding river. During the wet seasons, it could rise to maybe five feet, compared to its normal three. During most seasons, it’s filled with algae, tadpoles and eels, each more slimy than the last. The bridge was built in the peak of the 80s, so it had a sort of brutally capitalist concrete nature to it. The river ran slowly, which allowed its murky orange and green layers to properly separate.
After we had set the time, we didn’t message each other to double-check. At the hour of our big fight, Rory was already there before me. We hadn’t uploaded pictures of ourselves to the chat rooms, so I didn’t know what to expect. He had gone home beforehand and changed into, what he would later call, his ‘kicking-ass outfit’. I don’t remember if it was the hotrod flames on his shirt or his khaki-camo shorts that made me laugh as I approached him, but I exploded. Apparently, my urban goth MCR-inspired outfit was amusing to him, because he started laughing shortly after I did.
“What the fuck are you wearing?” I pointed at his new, green DC skater shoes.
“Kicks, cooler than yours,” Rory riposted and pointed at my hand-me-down black Dr Martins.
As we continued to banter, we turned away from each other and looked over the edge of the bridge. A duck and its ducklings waddled into the river. “You got Mr Potato-head knees.” An old-man turtle breached the river’s surface. “Pincushion Pinocchio face.” As the sun went down, we ended up just watching the ripples on the river’s surface. “Bigtoed, frosted-tipped freak.”
After a solid hour of consensual roasting, I finally asked him, “Hey, so, What happened with your gun?”
Rory squinched his mouth and mumbled something under his breath, which I asked him to repeat. “Ughhh, so pretty much I went to leave the house and somehow my bitch mom knew it was in my bag and she literally confiscated it from me.”
A grin, not of superiority, but of relief came to my face. This kid, whom I had been feuding with online for years, was a loser, like me. We stayed on the bridge for what felt like ages, talking about almost everything, while the river turned to a dark, black-green. We talked about cheesy Japanese food, Interpol, X-files and of course, trading card games. I remember thinking that I had never had a friend like him before, someone I felt so comfortable to talk to. Someone I could see myself spending a lot of time with. We were both so awkward that we didn’t know how to say goodbye. So, as he walked backwards, shooting finger guns at me, I gave him a dramatic captain's salute. I didn’t think that he needed to know about the knife.
School life was as egregious as ever and home life didn’t change much either, but at 5 pm every afternoon, Rory and I met up at the bridge. Sometimes we would lean against the railing and verse each other in card games on our phones, one time I stole a vape from my older sibling and shared it with him, but most times, during that golden hour before nightfall, we talked. I never felt more present in the moment, than when I was on that bridge with him.
Last week, I ran late to our ‘appointment’, so I sent him a quick message, “sup bitch, imma be late cause I just can’t stand being around you lol.”
He didn’t respond, he didn’t even read the message.
I assumed that his phone was dead and since I live pretty close to the bridge, I just started walking. On the way I considered messaging him again, but I thought it could have come off as too needy, so I didn’t. Winter had just begun so the nights came earlier. As I started along the bridge, I saw that Rory was standing against the railing, looking down at the water.
“Oi, shithead!” I boisterously announced my presence, “You’re phone broken or what?”
He slowly pointed at the dark, still river below.
“He……he jumped.”
“What?”
“…but he’s there, under the water. Right there, can’t you see him?” Rory’s hand was shaking as he pointed to a seemingly random spot in the water.
“Dude, the river’s only a couple feet deep are you….feeling okay?”
Rory retracted his arm and turned away from the water, to me. As his eyes and mine met, I could tell he wasn’t joking. I broke one of our unspoken rules, physical contact, and put my hand on his arm.
“I’m sorry I was late Rory, can you tell me what happened?”
He salivated his dry mouth and cleared his throat before talking.
“I got here at 5ish and there was, this guy, standing on the bridge. He was looking over the edge and I didn’t want to talk to him, so I stood away from him. As I waited for you, I occasionally looked over to him and it kinda looked like he was talking to someone, but from where I was, I couldn’t see earphones or anything. Then out of nowhere, I looked over to him again and he was up on the railing. I didn’t know what to do and before I could say anything, he jumped. I ran over and looked down, but it was weird. There wasn’t a splash, I couldn’t hear or see anything, but then I saw him again, under the surface.”
After he finished, Rory glanced back at the water. I looked back down as well, but I couldn’t see anything. Rory was an asshat, but I didn’t think he would lie about something like this. So, I moved my hand down his arm to hold onto his hand and got my phone out of my jumper’s pocket.
“Let’s go find him,” I said as I switched on my phone’s torch.
We headed across the bridge and down the river bank. A couple of puppy-sized water rats darted away as we balanced our way across the rocks to the water’s edge. I shone my torch along the banks and rocks, to make sure the jumper didn’t crawl out of the water, onto the shoreline.
“Don’t bother Ruby, he’s still there,” Rory declared as he pointed at the river.
“Can you see him?” I said as I handed him the phone.
He waved it across the water’s surface a few times while I used a nearby branch to poke the water. After a couple of minutes, Rory handed me back my phone.
“He’s gone.”
“It’s okay man, we can call the police if you want?”
“No, he, never mind. Let’s just go home.”
I’m not the best at comforting people, I didn’t know if he needed a hug or a quip, so I didn’t do anything but walk. I wanted to hold him, but he was so distant, it was like he was on a different planet.
“Hey man, just letting you know im home now. Shoot me a thumbs up or sumthing to let me know u made it home,” my cool facade started to slip as my worry for Rory grew.
Rory was inactive on social media, and even his gamer profile was offline. I got too in my head about whether or not I should call him, I already had complicated feelings about him before he started hallucinating. We didn’t go to the same school and I didn’t know where he lived, so unless he messaged me back, I didn’t know where to find him.
I couldn’t stop thinking about him, about that night. Did he really see someone jump? Maybe I was too mean to him? My bus home from school travels across the bridge, that’s how I found him again. I looked up from my phone yesterday, just as we were crossing and I saw him, standing right where I found him before. I got off at the next station, which was about a mile away and although I was excited to see him again, I couldn’t help but wonder how long he was standing there. Did he actually go home?
“Rory?”
He was so still when I finally caught up to him, the sun was getting ready to leave us. The slow stream of shallow water, dribbled along the pebbles below us, as the wildlife grew quiet. The golden hour had begun.
“….how long have you been here Rory?” I didn’t look at the water.
“Dunno,” He was transfixed to the same spot as before.
“Is he still down there?” I didn’t want him to answer.
“Yeah.”
I clenched my eyes and then my fists. Why was he doing this? Why did I have to love him? I forced him to turn away from the water, to look at my face.
“Stop this! You need to stop Rory, this isn’t right!”
There was no emotion in his face and nothing was behind his eyes. This enraged me. I wished that I still had the knife on me, but I worked with what I had at my disposal.
“TALK, you FUCK!” I yelled, right before I hit him with a right hook to the face.
He recoiled, but only as much as any inanimate object would. Then he turned, with a bloodied nose, back to the water. At this point my tears were uncontrollable. Using my school uniform I tried to clean out my eyes as I turned and left him.
“He’s still down there…. I think he’s waiting for me to join him,” I heard him mutter behind my back.
“Fucking jump then!” I sobbed, without turning to face him.
He didn’t answer, again, but as I was walking away I felt something. It felt like someone’s eyes were on me and I don’t know why then of all times I did it, but I turned back to him. Rory was standing on the edge of the bridge, looking at me happily. By the time my face had reacted to his, he had leaned over the edge and disappeared under the bridge.
I screamed out his name, but it was useless. There was no warning, there was no splash. Rory was gone.
I ran over and although I was hesitant at first, I looked down to where he had fallen. In the absolute darkness that was the river, I thought I could see him. My memory is a bit blurry but I thought I could see him drowning.
The next thing I knew, it was early this morning. I had been staring at the river for over eight hours, only pulled out of that trance-like state by thirty-plus phone calls, from my family angrily worrying about me. I don’t know why I didn’t get help. Something about it, something about him, watching him under the water’s surface soothed me.
I spent most of today sleeping, besides being woken up by my parents. They either wanted to berate me for last night or to harass me about weekend chores. The arguments are routine at this point. I didn’t tell them about Rory, I don’t think I have ever told them about Rory. I don’t think today is a good day to tell them anyway.
In the dark corners of my room, in the reflections of my screens and behind my eyes when I blink, I can still see him, drowning. I see a long green tunnel of orange water, in which Rory is but a needle falling. I’m not particularly fond of cops and I don’t think my parents will entertain my story, but I need to do something. I need to tell someone. I know I’m writing this post, but I can’t explain it any further than I already have. I need to bring someone to the bridge.
Kit, my older sibling just got home and I asked them to come with me to the bridge. I haven’t told them the whole truth, but they said they would come, to see him.
At least now I won’t be alone.
#entertainment
source
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