Never Let Me Go.
I wrote this about 4 years ago, so when I was 16ish. It's still the only completed work that I'm happy with. I know it's far from perfect, but I finished it, and that's a big deal to me.
We'd been friends for as long as I could remember. In fact, my first memory was of us making mud pies in the back garden, and trying to feed them to my cat. Needless to say, it didn't work, but that never stopped us trying. People used to say he was a bad influence on me, but the best times of my childhood were spent with him, playing in the back garden. I loved my sandpit more than I loved almost anything else, but if a spider ever dared to enter its glorious depths, he would always be the one to catch it and take it away. It was always helpful to have your best friend next door. And, unlike the other boys, once he'd caught the spider he wouldn't wave it in my face, but gently release it back into the garden.
I remember my first day of school. I was absolutely terrified and had no idea what to expect, but as Tom had been through it all a couple of years before me, he calmed me down. He even walked me there, with our mothers following close behind. As we got closer to the school gates, nerves filled my body, and I had a huge urge to turn around and run home. I didn't need to say any of this to Tom - just one look at my face and he knew. He grabbed my hand, gave it a gentle squeeze, and carried on walking, taking me through the gates. After that, I knew I could handle anything as long as he was by my side. I didn't want to leave him, but his classroom was on the opposite side of the school to me. After his reassurances that he would find me at break time, I stepped across the threshold into this 'New World'.
After that day I looked forward to school, and Tom seemed to have the same calming influence on the rest of my life. When I broke up with my first boyfriend I felt as though my whole life was crashing down around me, and there was no point in going on anymore. It sounds pathetic now, looking back, but I didn't know how I was going to carry on with my life. Throughout the weeks and months that followed, with my annoying mood swings and bouts of depression, Tom never once let me down. He was my rock; I knew that I could always rely on him.
Once, when I was having a real struggle with my depression - I can't even remember why now, and to be honest it's probably irrelevant - I felt completely suicidal. I'd always had 'issues' in my life, and found it tough, but this time was the lowest I'd ever felt. Like I said, I can't remember details of the problem, but Tom was the one that kept me sane. Kept me alive. At one point I was crying hysterically on his bed, and he was sat there stroking my back, trying to gently slow the tears, when I got the sudden urge to hurt myself. Horrible, destructive thoughts were zooming around in my mind, and the only way I could think of coping was to drown them out. Unfortunately, the way I chose to do this was by banging my head repeatedly on Tom's wall. I’m sure he was shocked, maybe even a little disgusted, but he didn’t let any of that show. Straight away he grabbed my body and pulled me into a tight bear hug so that I couldn't possibly escape and do myself any more damage. He rocked me back and forth, just whispering in my ear "it'll be okay", over and over again. I looked up at him, and muttered the words "never let me go".
I've never felt nearly as safe as I did when I was in Tom's arms. None of my other friends understood it. They all thought that I must have been secretly in love with him, but too scared to admit it. In a way, I pity them. They'll never understand how much more intimate it can be to share everything emotionally with a person, and not let it lead into something physical. Tom and I just completely understood each other - our friendship was 'just' a friendship, but that didn't make it any less special than a romantic relationship would be.
I was dreading reaching the end of sixth form, because I knew what came next. I'd been told by so many people that I had to go to University, because it would be a waste of a good talent if I didn't, but that meant leaving all of my friends behind. The others I could cope without, but I didn't want to leave Tom. By then we'd been living next door to each other for 18 years, and I couldn't manage my life without him. He was attending the local music college and so hadn't moved away, but there was nowhere in the area that offered the course that I'd set my heart on. After nights of endless discussion with Tom, I eventually managed to make the decision to move away. I had no idea just how much I’d regret it.
Once at university I found that I settled in quickly, and soon had a whole new circle of friends. At first, that didn't stop the pain of being away from Tom - it was like he was my twin who’d always been there, and being without him was being without a part of me. However, my new friends encouraged me that I needed a new start, away from my old life and my battles with depression... and away from Tom. Foolishly, I decided to give it a try, and see how I would cope with not ringing home every day. It was so hard at first, but I found that whenever I was sad and missing Tom my new friends didn't want anything to do with me. They only enjoyed the company of the fun-loving, partying version of me. I'm ashamed to say that this didn't lead me to find a new group of people to hang around with, but instead it made me reluctant to show my true feelings. I just pushed them to the back of my mind, along with all of the other emotional baggage that I hadn't been able to share with my best friend lately.
Then, on November 29th, my whole world got turned upside down. I wish I could forget it, but that date is engraved in my memory forever. I was woken up at 2 in the morning by my mobile phone ringing. I'd never been able to get into the habit of turning it off at night, but I always got so annoyed if anyone dared to disturb my sleep. Without even looking at the caller ID, I rejected the call, and tried to go back to my dream. About 10 seconds later, it started ringing again. By this time I was wide awake, so I didn't have much excuse not to answer it. Now, more than anything I just wish I could go back and somehow make it so that phone call didn't have to happen.
It was my mother. At first I was annoyed, wondering why she'd disturbed me in the middle of the night. Then as I started to listen to what she was saying I felt numb, as though someone had just pushed the off button in my brain. Only a few words were getting through the haze. Tom. Mugging. Knife. Critical. Shaking off the fog that seemed to be surrounding my thoughts, I focussed on mum's voice. Tom was on the way back from his shift at the bar - Tom had a job at a bar? He hadn't told me... FOCUS! - when a couple of thugs in tracksuits had gone up to him, threatened him with a knife, and demanded all of his money. From what the police could tell he'd been obedient, and started emptying his pockets. Then, whether by accident or on purpose, the guy with the knife had stabbed him in the gut. They panicked and ran, but a passer-by had seen the whole thing and called the police and an ambulance. As me and mum spoke, Tom was being rushed into the emergency department of the local hospital - and while it was all happening, I was worried about me not getting my solid 8 hours of sleep.
As soon as the news had sunk in, I started pulling on clothes that were lying around my room, not caring what I looked like and just wanting to get there as soon as possible. I think I was out of the house within 2 minutes, and started the 3 hour drive home as soon as I could. All the way I was praying madly, the same prayer chanted over and over again. Please God, let him be okay. Let him live. Please God, let him be okay...
After what seemed like an eternity I arrived at the hospital and rushed inside. The first person I saw was Tom's mum, and I just ran to her and cried. She was so strong. She managed to hold herself together, while comforting the bundle of snot and tears that I had turned into. She told me that they were still operating on him, as things were more complicated than they first thought. Apparently the knife had torn his diaphragm, with the possibility that one of his lungs was damaged too. As we waited, I managed to say the words that I didn't want to say, but a sick curiosity in me had to ask. "What are his chances?"
His mum turned to look at me and just said, "We don't know, sweetie. We really don't know."
At that point, I started to get angry. Just a few years ago, hadn't he promised me that he'd never let me go? Then, I realised. It wasn't him that I was angry at, it was me. When I moved away I'd slowly let him go, and then he was gone from me forever.
~ ~ ~
The next few weeks were the worst of my life so far, and I hope from the bottom of my heart that there's nothing worse to come. The hardest moment was saying goodbye to Tom, when he was laid in his coffin looking as though he was resting so peacefully. I was overcome with the biggest sense of guilt - if I hadn't been so quick to leave Tom behind, would this tragedy have happened? Then an image came into my mind, and I knew that it had been Tom that had put it there. I saw us walking together on my first day of school, holding hands; all problems gone, thanks to the most simple of gestures. As I looked at his empty shell of a body, I knew that it wasn't Tom lying there. As long as I held onto the memories, he'd still be alive. He'd never let me go.
We'd been friends for as long as I could remember. In fact, my first memory was of us making mud pies in the back garden, and trying to feed them to my cat. Needless to say, it didn't work, but that never stopped us trying. People used to say he was a bad influence on me, but the best times of my childhood were spent with him, playing in the back garden. I loved my sandpit more than I loved almost anything else, but if a spider ever dared to enter its glorious depths, he would always be the one to catch it and take it away. It was always helpful to have your best friend next door. And, unlike the other boys, once he'd caught the spider he wouldn't wave it in my face, but gently release it back into the garden.
I remember my first day of school. I was absolutely terrified and had no idea what to expect, but as Tom had been through it all a couple of years before me, he calmed me down. He even walked me there, with our mothers following close behind. As we got closer to the school gates, nerves filled my body, and I had a huge urge to turn around and run home. I didn't need to say any of this to Tom - just one look at my face and he knew. He grabbed my hand, gave it a gentle squeeze, and carried on walking, taking me through the gates. After that, I knew I could handle anything as long as he was by my side. I didn't want to leave him, but his classroom was on the opposite side of the school to me. After his reassurances that he would find me at break time, I stepped across the threshold into this 'New World'.
After that day I looked forward to school, and Tom seemed to have the same calming influence on the rest of my life. When I broke up with my first boyfriend I felt as though my whole life was crashing down around me, and there was no point in going on anymore. It sounds pathetic now, looking back, but I didn't know how I was going to carry on with my life. Throughout the weeks and months that followed, with my annoying mood swings and bouts of depression, Tom never once let me down. He was my rock; I knew that I could always rely on him.
Once, when I was having a real struggle with my depression - I can't even remember why now, and to be honest it's probably irrelevant - I felt completely suicidal. I'd always had 'issues' in my life, and found it tough, but this time was the lowest I'd ever felt. Like I said, I can't remember details of the problem, but Tom was the one that kept me sane. Kept me alive. At one point I was crying hysterically on his bed, and he was sat there stroking my back, trying to gently slow the tears, when I got the sudden urge to hurt myself. Horrible, destructive thoughts were zooming around in my mind, and the only way I could think of coping was to drown them out. Unfortunately, the way I chose to do this was by banging my head repeatedly on Tom's wall. I’m sure he was shocked, maybe even a little disgusted, but he didn’t let any of that show. Straight away he grabbed my body and pulled me into a tight bear hug so that I couldn't possibly escape and do myself any more damage. He rocked me back and forth, just whispering in my ear "it'll be okay", over and over again. I looked up at him, and muttered the words "never let me go".
I've never felt nearly as safe as I did when I was in Tom's arms. None of my other friends understood it. They all thought that I must have been secretly in love with him, but too scared to admit it. In a way, I pity them. They'll never understand how much more intimate it can be to share everything emotionally with a person, and not let it lead into something physical. Tom and I just completely understood each other - our friendship was 'just' a friendship, but that didn't make it any less special than a romantic relationship would be.
I was dreading reaching the end of sixth form, because I knew what came next. I'd been told by so many people that I had to go to University, because it would be a waste of a good talent if I didn't, but that meant leaving all of my friends behind. The others I could cope without, but I didn't want to leave Tom. By then we'd been living next door to each other for 18 years, and I couldn't manage my life without him. He was attending the local music college and so hadn't moved away, but there was nowhere in the area that offered the course that I'd set my heart on. After nights of endless discussion with Tom, I eventually managed to make the decision to move away. I had no idea just how much I’d regret it.
Once at university I found that I settled in quickly, and soon had a whole new circle of friends. At first, that didn't stop the pain of being away from Tom - it was like he was my twin who’d always been there, and being without him was being without a part of me. However, my new friends encouraged me that I needed a new start, away from my old life and my battles with depression... and away from Tom. Foolishly, I decided to give it a try, and see how I would cope with not ringing home every day. It was so hard at first, but I found that whenever I was sad and missing Tom my new friends didn't want anything to do with me. They only enjoyed the company of the fun-loving, partying version of me. I'm ashamed to say that this didn't lead me to find a new group of people to hang around with, but instead it made me reluctant to show my true feelings. I just pushed them to the back of my mind, along with all of the other emotional baggage that I hadn't been able to share with my best friend lately.
Then, on November 29th, my whole world got turned upside down. I wish I could forget it, but that date is engraved in my memory forever. I was woken up at 2 in the morning by my mobile phone ringing. I'd never been able to get into the habit of turning it off at night, but I always got so annoyed if anyone dared to disturb my sleep. Without even looking at the caller ID, I rejected the call, and tried to go back to my dream. About 10 seconds later, it started ringing again. By this time I was wide awake, so I didn't have much excuse not to answer it. Now, more than anything I just wish I could go back and somehow make it so that phone call didn't have to happen.
It was my mother. At first I was annoyed, wondering why she'd disturbed me in the middle of the night. Then as I started to listen to what she was saying I felt numb, as though someone had just pushed the off button in my brain. Only a few words were getting through the haze. Tom. Mugging. Knife. Critical. Shaking off the fog that seemed to be surrounding my thoughts, I focussed on mum's voice. Tom was on the way back from his shift at the bar - Tom had a job at a bar? He hadn't told me... FOCUS! - when a couple of thugs in tracksuits had gone up to him, threatened him with a knife, and demanded all of his money. From what the police could tell he'd been obedient, and started emptying his pockets. Then, whether by accident or on purpose, the guy with the knife had stabbed him in the gut. They panicked and ran, but a passer-by had seen the whole thing and called the police and an ambulance. As me and mum spoke, Tom was being rushed into the emergency department of the local hospital - and while it was all happening, I was worried about me not getting my solid 8 hours of sleep.
As soon as the news had sunk in, I started pulling on clothes that were lying around my room, not caring what I looked like and just wanting to get there as soon as possible. I think I was out of the house within 2 minutes, and started the 3 hour drive home as soon as I could. All the way I was praying madly, the same prayer chanted over and over again. Please God, let him be okay. Let him live. Please God, let him be okay...
After what seemed like an eternity I arrived at the hospital and rushed inside. The first person I saw was Tom's mum, and I just ran to her and cried. She was so strong. She managed to hold herself together, while comforting the bundle of snot and tears that I had turned into. She told me that they were still operating on him, as things were more complicated than they first thought. Apparently the knife had torn his diaphragm, with the possibility that one of his lungs was damaged too. As we waited, I managed to say the words that I didn't want to say, but a sick curiosity in me had to ask. "What are his chances?"
His mum turned to look at me and just said, "We don't know, sweetie. We really don't know."
At that point, I started to get angry. Just a few years ago, hadn't he promised me that he'd never let me go? Then, I realised. It wasn't him that I was angry at, it was me. When I moved away I'd slowly let him go, and then he was gone from me forever.
~ ~ ~
The next few weeks were the worst of my life so far, and I hope from the bottom of my heart that there's nothing worse to come. The hardest moment was saying goodbye to Tom, when he was laid in his coffin looking as though he was resting so peacefully. I was overcome with the biggest sense of guilt - if I hadn't been so quick to leave Tom behind, would this tragedy have happened? Then an image came into my mind, and I knew that it had been Tom that had put it there. I saw us walking together on my first day of school, holding hands; all problems gone, thanks to the most simple of gestures. As I looked at his empty shell of a body, I knew that it wasn't Tom lying there. As long as I held onto the memories, he'd still be alive. He'd never let me go.