Sonia Glen - 3

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It was grey out, the type of grey that imprisons you in your house. Pools of water were forming in the dirt outside the bridge. The smell of rain breezed through under the bridge, I smelled her. Water seeped into the dirt; I watched it turn to mud. As I sat blankly and watched this happen I knew that in a couple hours the sun would come out, this mud would dry and go back to dirt. I could relate to the dirt right now, I was waiting for my sun to come out. But unfortunately it didn't seem like it would come out in a very long time. Sonia's half-finished novel sat on my lap, it felt heavy. I heard it breath, I looked down at it, Sonia's eyes staring back at me. I was terrified, cold chills sat in my stomach. Her dead cold body sitting in a morgue's office, okay stop, stop, stop, think of something else. It's not like anything is different, she's always been dead...and cold. When I looked at her I didn't see a normal living person, nobody did.

I flipped through the pages of the novel, she had written 283 pages. “Fuck...” I said out loud. I could have easily kept that comment to myself. But with the droning pitter-patter of the rain and the numbing and terrifying silence, sound was needed. The pages smelled like cigarettes, I wondered if a book smelled like me what would it smell like? Sonia would know.

I had questions, what happened to her? How did she die? After sitting with the idea that Sonia might come back here if I wait long enough, I stood up. The rain was still falling, the sky still grey. Nature knew what happened today. As the events of this day started processing in my mind more and more questions started to grasp my attention. Why am I not crying? Why don’t I feel like I’ve lost someone important to me? Will it be an open casket? Did she kill herself? How can a girl that pretty and that young be dead? Is this my fault? I can’t even write, how am I going to finish a novel I didn’t even start? Should I just leave the novel here for someone else to find?

No, I have to finish this. My legs never felt this heavy, I grabbed the metal skeleton that ran under the bridge to make sure I didn’t fall. Still grasping it I peaked outside the bridge. It’s her, Sonia Glen in the flesh was standing not 20 feet away looking at the Pool Park River that ran under the bridge. Her long brown hair wet and clinging to her back. Her pink sweatshirt turning into a purple as it got more and more soaked. Her hands wrapped with the sleeves of her shirt. The rain was beginning to fall even harder, this might be the actual climax to this story.

When I was five years old I remember sitting on the couch at six o’clock in the morning watching cartoons. My short attention span started to show itself so I began flipping through the channels. When I ran through the news, there was a car floating in water. A quick cut after showed a bridge with a giant gap in between the concrete railings. Even at 5, I recognized the park after they showed my favorite yellow rocking horse with crime scene tape unfocused in the back round. I crawled to the TV screen. “Yeah Tom, I’m not sure we have all the facts yet but it looks that the driver of this car lost control on the bridge and plunged into the water.” The perfect looking forty some year old anchorwoman blared out the 90’s TV speakers. I think that was the day I realized I hated people. Later on they found out it was suicide. A 16-year-old depressed kid who’s been driving for two months flew himself off the bridge. Ainos Dzierwa, a son of immigrants.

“SONIA!” I yelled at her. I was furious. Everything I felt about her, everything I kept to myself over the years I was ready to burst. “SONIA WHAT THE FUCK?!” The rain was so thick she was starting to fade. Oh no, you wont get away that easy. I ran to her, she became more and more clear. My legs were running on their own, fueled by anger and nothing else. How could she do this? Make everyone think she was dead? How could she leave me here without taking me with her? “SONIA!” I was within one foot of her, I grabbed her hand with a tight grasp. If I would ever see Sonia’s face again, right now wouldn’t be the time. It wasn’t her. Helena Graves, a sophomore. Her hand was still holding mine. “I thought you were Sonia” Helena looked at me, I’ve never seen a girl’s hair that wet. “I thought she would be out here.” Helena muttered, her voice almost echoing through the raindrops. How I missed the human voice.