Jonathan lay in his bed tossing and turning but the moment his mind drifted from trying to find a comfortable position the images would come back. He wanted to scream but when he opened his mouth nothing would come out but a whimper.
He was exhausted. Everything that happened actually happened. And it happened fast. ‘A miracle’ they said. Everyone from the 911 operator to the paramedics called it a miracle. Paul’s legs were shattered, his left arm was hanging by the skin that kids his age make jokes of, and you could see Paul struggling to breathe. And miraculously—although unfortunately for Jonathan—Paul was still completely conscious. It reminded him of a scene from Evil Dead. What a fucking miracle.
“Aaaaaaah, you got to get shwifty.” Jonathan rolled around and reached to turn his off his phone, but thought given the circumstances people might want to reach him. He looked around and saw the sun was starting to rise and the annoying little blue jay that always came by was already making a mess of the balcony.
“Hello, this Ellie from the Coquitlam Victim Services Unit. Can we speak to Jonathan?”
“This is h— I’m hi— I’m Jonathan.” What an awkward question he thought.
The victim services lady asked Jonathan about how he was doing and he answered truthfully. He slept about 2 hours in bits. He only ate a bag of cheetos or two. But at least he drank a lot of water. And tomorrow he’d be meeting up with a couple friends. The lady asked if Jonathan had considered counseling and if he would like a referral and if she could touch base with him next week. He hadn’t, he might, and she might as well to make sure he wasn’t going to do anything stupid. They never would end up calling back. Probably because of more important things to deal with.
He was awake and it was morning and he thought it was probably best to get up but his limbs felt heavy and he could swear he could feel that his blood was coming to a full stop. If it weren’t for his dislike of sharp things, letting out some of the pressure didn’t seem like a bad idea.
Two figures at a distance were watching Jonathan with great interest.
“I told you. Everyone has a breaking point.” One said to the other.
“He’s just struggling. He’ll come around.”