The Untold Story of a Grim Reaper: Chapter 23.2: Leave it all Behind

Phoebe knocked on the wooden column, “Noa?” 

“Hey, Phoebe.”

Phoebe looked exhausted, “I thought you might like to know Jonah needs your help.”

“I can’t help Jonah.”

Of course, on top of this all there was Jonah. The first issue to arise from my troubles yet the only one I can’t address. The sad part was that I could help him but in fear of being damned I had chose to save myself. Jonah readily took a bullet for me and I ran away when I saw he needed to be saved from himself. By not helping Jonah, I have deemed my soul more worthy of being saved.

Phoebe shook her head, “No, it’s not that kind of help. He… just come with me.”

I followed Phoebe into the shadows, holding her hand once again so she could lead the way. We ascended together in a park. 

Phoebe pointed, “He’s over here.”

As we walked, the sound of bottles smashing with slurred yelling became louder. Sitting tied to a park bench, Jonah, groaned for help and threw empty bottles against the cement.

“Thank you, Phoebe,” I squeezed her hand, “I’ll take him home.”

She nodded, “Okay, you should know I’m onto something. I’ll let you know when I have more information.”

“Sounds good, thanks.”

She left and I took in a breath before approaching Jonah.

His head groggily perked up as he saw me, “Noa!”

Shaking my head, “Jonah, what happened?”

His words slurred, “I’m just playing a game,” he tugged at the bike chain that wrapped around his leg and the bench, “I guess I lost.”

I leaned in to try to break the bike chain as I asked, “Did Tori do this to you?”

Jonah put his hand on my forehead sloppily messing with my hair, “You’re so smart.” 

The smell of alcohol from his lips stung my nostrils. 

I gave another large sigh, Jonah kept throwing the dozens of empty bottles that cluttered in his lap. He gave me a smile but his eyes were wet. I had completely ignored how Aaron’s death would effect Jonah. He was so hurt and lost.

I patted his knee, “Let’s get you home.” Using a small amount of strength I was able to easily snap the coil. 

Jonah looked impressed, “Noa, you’re like mighty man.”

I could only summon neutral responses from my sensitive thoughts, “I suppose, Jonah.”

I stuffed the bottles back into his backpack, I then grabbed his arms to help him stand. He immediately wobbled to the asphalt and lied down. 

“Come on, Jonah, please get up.”

“Let’s play charades. What am I?” 

I leaned over, rolling over Jonah on his back. 

He wiggled in response, “That’s not how you play.”

“It’s not the time for any of that, Jonah.”

He pouted, crossing his arms, “You’re no fun.”

“Come on.” 

I put on his backpack and tucked my hands underneath his back and legs, I lifted him up. Deciding that it was just best to carry him.

He poked at my arm where my mark was, drunkenly whispering, “Such a badass. I’m sure there is some great story behind it.”

My tired eyes just kept staring ahead as I walked, “Trust me. It’s not great.”

“Wait, wait,” His finger pointed into the bushes. There was a mangled bike tangled in its branches. The frame and tires bent. He continued, “We have to get my bike.”

Tiredly, “We’ll get it tomorrow, Jonah.”

“But I double parked. I don’t want to get a ticket.”

As if talking to a child, “You won’t get a ticket, Jonah.”

He slapped my back, “You’ve always got my back, Noa. I adore you.”

Still avoiding eye contact with him, no inflection in my tone, “I adore you too, Jonah. Where do you live?”

Jonah pointed at the sky, “One day.”

I stopped and shook him, locking eyes with him, “Don’t say that!”

“What?” He shrugged, “I live at Spektor Village.” 

His eyes were still watery. Tears had yet to fully develop on his puffy, pink eyes.

I carried him the whole way, the whole ten minute walk as Jonah continued spewing nonsense from his alcohol stained thoughts. 

I could see his complex at the corner when Jonah asked, “Noa?”

For once, I answered, “What, Jonah?”

He leaned into my ear, “Can you keep a secret?”

Still exhausted, “Of course.”

“I,” he took in a breath, “am gay. There I said it! I bet you didn’t see that coming!” 

He stumbled out of my arms as he wiggled. Falling face first on the cement, knocked out cold. I instantly sprung to pick him up again. This time I just tossed him over my shoulder. Carrying him like a coat over my back. He was quiet for the rest of the walk.

I couldn’t tell if this was a confession he was making to me or to himself. All I cared about was his safety. I wanted him to be honest with himself and for him not to feel that a confession was necessary to be accepted. 

Vincent’s memory recovered in my cluttered mind. I wondered if this is how it was for him after my suicide. This guilt stroked my backbone like nails on a chalkboard, the thought that I would bring someone such sadness. 

But all in all, what Vincent had done… Vincent didn’t mean this to be the outcome. Vincent was just scared. I felt awful at the idea that he might feel a scrap of blame for what happened. If only he could know it was so many things that led up to it, that it wasn’t just one event. If only he could know that it could’ve possibly been half nurture and half nature that pushed me to do what I had done… truth is, I will never really know why I did it… but I just wish that Vincent could know that I’m sorry too.

I pulled a key from his pocket, it read room 1277. I continued to carry him up the stairs. He regained consciousness. 

Moaning loudly, “Where am I?”

Still monotone, “Almost home.”

Jonah resisted from my grip again but luckily landed on his feet. 

Swaying while grabbing the wall, “I can’t go back home. I can’t let her see me like this.”

“Who? Your mom?”

“Yes, if she see’s me like this… I’ll… I’ll…”

I interrupted, “I’ll make sure she doesn’t see you.” 

He leaned back against the wall, sliding against it to sit, “Why did he do it, Noa?” Jonah’s eyes were getting puffier, his lip quivered, “Why didn’t I see it coming?”

I joined him on the ground, I wanted to tell him everything, “Jonah, Aaron…”

He took in a breath, “‘Aaron’ what? Aaron is gone? Aaron killed himself?” he held up a drunken finger to my mouth making a shushing sound, “No, no, we shouldn’t talk about suicide. Suicide makes people uncomfortable. If we just don’t talk about it, it’ll go away. Right? While everyone prays for more important things we shouldn’t muddle their conscience with,” he pointed at himself and shut his eye. His crying became heavier, “Aaron left me behind.” I couldn’t think of what to say, there was so much I couldn’t. Jonah suppressed his sobs, “What is wrong with me?”

I shook his knee, speaking rather sternly, “Nothing is wrong with you, Jonah. Absolutely nothing!”

“Why does everyone tell me that then? Why do I feel so worthless?”

“No one thinks your worthless, Jonah. Anyone who says your worthless doesn’t deserve you. Anyone who says you need to be something you’re not to be accepted doesn’t deserve you. You mean so much to so many people, to Camilla and Jessie… to me,” I paused, “To Aaron.”

Jonah mumbled in a whimper, “Why couldn’t he take me with him?”

“Don’t say that, Jonah, please,” my words choked in my throat, “You can’t.”

“But Aaron did.” Jonah’s tone was darker as he shut his eyes, “Aaron did.” 

His posture slumped, and he fell asleep. I took Jonah’s arm around my neck and grabbed his waist to hold him upright. Thoughts of losing Jonah too began to hurricane in my temple. Jonah was a lover, not a fighter. How long could he keep hanging on without anyone left to keep tying knots? 

The gears in the lock shifted as I placed the brass key in the slot. It gave a rather loud click that made Jonah wake slightly. Again, I picked up Jonah completely, cradling him like a child. Like swift death I was able to step without a creek or sound in the apartment. Eventually, I found Jonah’s room, placing him gently on his mattress and comforter. 

Jonah sadly said, “You’re judging me aren’t you? You’ve barely looked at me.”

My guilt poured from mouth, “I am not judging you, Jonah.” I stammered to find the right thing to say that wouldn’t be pressing into dangerous territory, “I just am not good at this kind of stuff.”

Jonah rolled his eyes, “Fine. Be alone.”

Hurt, I responded, “That’s the last thing I want to be.”

“Then prove it.”

I closed my eyes, “I can’t,” when I opened my eyes I locked them with his. His pupils dilated. His body went limp. I commanded, “You will not come to school tomorrow. You are feeling ill. You need to rest. Take tomorrow off. Now, go to sleep.”

Jonah drifted into wonderland and I was left alone with my hell. Alone. How could I prove that I didn’t want to be alone when my burden on earth was mine alone? Proving that I didn’t want to be alone would be giving into the idea that I was weak and it would prove that I need Lilli. I needed to learn to be fine with being alone for eventually all of the living will die and I will be left brushed under heavens carpet to forever serve as the ferryman of death.

Jonah had no idea the effect he could have on people and if he died, he would be remembered for his suicide. A tragedy which should not define a lovely spirit like him. He was worth so much more than a tragic ending, he could save lives. 

Sinking into the shadows of Jonah’s apartment, I left and reappeared back in the woods. My soul felt scarred and bruised and in my heart of hearts, I felt as if the cure was also my poison. Should I follow Lilli so that I may find peace?

Leave it all behind. I repeated her words in my mind, feeling the slightest grace of comfort from the phrase. Leave it all behind. That’s what I was trying to do when I killed myself. I was trying to leave it all behind yet here I am… trapped by the same shackles I tried to cast away.

The moon kissed the winter sky with its smile. The clouds melted in and out of sight. The wind howled for purpose like a forgotten violin. The earth continued turning as it was always meant to do. And I drowned in a worry that hollowed my aching soul for the ones I could never save.

In death, I existed with the moon, the clouds, the wind, and the earth. My purpose now was as eternal as them or just as eternal as time or God would allow. Thus, the troubles I was facing were as much as a part of my duties as reaping souls were. There would be no hiding from my eternal role so where would I be… what would I be… if I did leave this all behind?

I laid in the dirt, I had no home, I pretended I was in my grave. 

 

How could I have saved Aaron, when I didn’t even know how to save myself?