Three years ago, I watch them all get on a bus and leave me behind. Six months later, only three quarters of them returned. I should have been on that deployment. I should have died with my platoon. Instead I was stateside, hanging out in the motor pool, driving supply trucks every day. I hung out with my friends and partied every weekend, while my platoon was getting lit up by insurgents. I wasn’t good enough to get deployed with them. I wasn’t good enough to die with them.
Today is the anniversary of the deaths of thirty good men and women. I’m hosting a BBQ in honor of those men and women. A family I have lost and can’t seem to get over. I used to be pleasant to be around. I used to laugh and play around. I used to be the life of the party. People are lucky to get a smile out of me these days. I feel guilty about their murder. Some say it’s survivors’ guilt. I say it’s all my fault for their dead.
Everyone comes over, all excited to hang out, eat some good food. I have a surprise for them. One they will never see coming. That is, until he walks through the door. The one that came back and tried his hardest to make me believe it wasn’t my fault. The one that did everything he could to help me and all I did was push him to the side. I pushed him away, like I did everyone else. He knows something is up the minute I flash an old smile at him. One that no one has seen in years. He immediately grips my arm, ready to pull me away and talk to me. Lucky for me, he’s stopped, and I have to mingle with all these people I don’t speak to anymore. The people that think everything is fine now.
They all act like I never changed. They all talk to me like I’m the old me. I laugh with them, letting them think I am. I have a few drinks, a few shots. I let them believe that the alcohol still gets to me like it used too. Alcohol does nothing for me these days. I drink it like water. Old memories pop up, reminding us of good times. Ones making this decision even easier. All this pain, I can’t deal with it anymore. He pulls me to the side after about an hour, dragging me into the house and up the stairs. He closes the door behind me and grips my arms, looking me straight into my soulless eyes with his distraught ones.
“I want to save you.” His body trembled as he spoke.
“Ha! Save me? Save me from what? Myself?” I laughed. Watching him cower even more at my sinister tone, letting go of my arms.
“I can save you.” He said with a bit more confidence, but his voice cracked towards the end.
“You can’t save me. No one can. You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.” My voice only gets louder as the words flow through my chest.
“Yes, you do. I know you do. I can see it in you.” He takes a step towards me. How bold.
“I lost that will years ago.” I sneer and turn away from him.
“When they left?” His voice went soft, but his words make me snap my vicious eyes back to his chocolate brown ones.
“You know nothing of why I am who I am!” I roar.
“I know you blame yourself for not going, for their deaths, for not saying the things you wish you could have said. I know you hid your pain behind that mask of yours. You’re afraid to show your vulnerability. You think you’ll look weak. Well, your mistaken. None of that makes you look weak. It just shows how strong you really are.” Now he stood staring at me, towering over me. Panting from his rant.
“You think you have me all figured out. Well, think again.” I whisper, then I turn to storm out of the room.
I don’t hear footsteps behind me. So, I know he isn’t following me. I’m furious. I don’t notice the people in my way as I continue to move. They’ll move for me. They always do. If it’s not for the scowl covering my face, it’s the darkness in my eyes. The way they encase my once baby blues. Soon they will be nothing but a shadow of who I once was. He has no right to come here and act like a hero. He will get nowhere. Save no one. Who does he think he is?
Everyone is here. Family, friends, colleagues. All mingling, enjoying the BBQ. Smiles and laughter is what I encounter when I walk outside onto the porch. No one even notices me step out. No one sees my anger. No one looks up. I made this party; I invited all these ungrateful people here. No one even knows the real reason why. I stay there a few more moments, breathing in the fresh air. Taking in the sunlight. A smile creeps onto my face. Yes, now is the time.
“Ladies and gentlemen. May I have your attention?” My voice booms over the crowd.
Everyone stops what they are doing and turns to look at me. Confusion is written on their clueless faces.
“I want to say thank you for coming today. It has been great to see those I haven’t seen in ages and those I see every day. You all look wonderful and happy. I want to remember us just like this. if we could all crowd together, I’d like to get a picture.” Tears are beginning to come to my eyes, but I do what I can to hold them back.
They all congregate together on the porch. I stay off to the side at first. Watching them get settled. More come from inside. slowly integrating with the rest of the group. No one has yet to notice the absence of a camera. No one seems to care as I walk to the front of the group. That’s when I spot him. He’s up in the left-hand corner, watching me. His eyes never leaving me. He knows. He knows what’s about to happen, but is he going to stop me? No, he isn’t. He is too much of a coward, too. He mouths the word no to me as I put my hand behind my back. I lift the back of my shirt and grab the pistol that’s leaving an imprint on my back. The pistol grip sits perfect in my hand as I pull it around.
I fiddle and play with the small killer while I wait for them to get situated up there on their pedestals. I look to the ground; not sure I can keep watching them. Knowing what I know now. The pain still lingers inside me. It has been growing each day. To the point where I’m finished with it. No one understands or wants to understand. So, it’s time for the game to be over. I’m ending the play. I let a tear glide down my cheek as I bring the gun up to my skull.
That’s when they look. They point and stare. Some gasping in surprise, others covering their mouths. Some even look away in shame. But no one moves their feet. Either they are frozen to the steps or this is how they really feel. None move to stop me. They all mummer their words of fright, but keep it between each other. No one calls out to me, telling me not to. They all stare as I put my finger on the trigger. I’m not afraid to die. I’ve been waiting for this. I knew they wouldn’t care, but I guess deep down I had hoped someone would have tried.
He watches from his spot in the corner, not moving, eyes wide. Probably wondering if I’m really going to do it. We lock eyes and I see the fear and pain they hold. Though, he makes no move. He just stands there. Waiting for my next move. The coldness from the barrel chills me a bit, but it soon replaced with warmth from the rage I’m holding in. It doesn’t take me long to realize. No one is going to stop me. They are all going to let me die. Watch me die. Or waiting for me to chicken out. I will not disappoint. I take a deep breath. With a slow, steady movement of my finger, I pull the trigger back. And my world goes black.
I Create Chaos 