What hurts the most.

After I watched the music video to the song 'What Hurts The Most'-Rascal Flatts...I felt a need to write. I don't know why. But here is a very short story I wrote based off that music video. I hope you like it. Watching the video helps understand the story some. Please feel free to comment :) Here it is:





A lot of what happened that day still comes to me in blurs. We got the call about 6:30 that night. I went off on my father when my parents came in my room to tell me. I still remember that clearly.
“Alexis? We need to talk to you,” my mother said, knocking on my bedroom door. I was laying on my bed.
“Fine, come in,” I said. I wasn’t in the mood to talk to them about anything. I’d just had a good day with Brad and didn’t want them coming in and ruining it. They opened the door and quietly walked into my room. I sat up on my bed.
“What do you guys want?” I asked them. My mom came and sat on my bed. My father stood near my wall.
“Honey, that was Brad’s parents that just called,” Mom said.
“Let me guess. We spend too much time together. Neither of you like him and they don’t like me. I’ve heard it all before. I don’t care what you say,” I said angrily. They were both silent.
“Alex, Brad had an accident,” my dad said quietly. I stopped pacing the floor and looked back at him.
“What do you mean an accident?” I asked. I tried to stay calm. It was nothing. Right? Nothing could have happened to Brad.
“A car accident. After he left here earlier,” my mom said from where she was sitting on my bed. I was silent.
“But he’s okay right?” I asked. Both of my parents looked down. My father finally spoke.
“He’s dead, Alex. He died on impact,” he said.
For a few minutes, I just looked back and forth between my parents. This had to be a joke, I thought. Brad couldn’t be dead. I loved him. He loved me. He was perfect. We were perfect. Brad couldn’t be dead.
“You’re not serious. You just don’t like him. Brad is fine,” I said.
“Honey, I know this isn’t easy. But Brad is dead,” my mother said. The look on her face is what did it. I knew she wasn’t kidding. Yet, I still did not want to believe it. I still don’t.
I turned away from her and walked towards my dresser. I put my head down. There was a strong tug in my chest and my eyes began to sting. Before I could stop it, tears streamed down my face. They came like a wave washing over my face and I couldn’t control them.
“It’s not true,” I whispered to myself. I wanted to believe that so bad. My parents were silent behind me. When I looked up in the mirror, I saw my father behind me across the room. Suddenly, I was so angry. I snapped.
“You did it! You made him leave!” I screamed. I ran to my father and pushed him hard. “It’s your fault! You hated him! Just say it! Say it! Say you hate him.”
I was pushing him and screaming and crying so hard. Gently, my dad grabbed my arms and pulled me towards him. At first, I fought back. I was so angry. But then I gave in. All I could do was sob into my dad’s chest and my whole body was shaking. At some point, my mother came over and hugged me as well. I don’t know how long we stayed there like that, but it felt like a lifetime.

Through the next few days and the funeral, I didn’t speak. My parents tried to talk to me. They tried to feed me. Suddenly, it was like I was a baby again. They catered to me. But instead of accepting as I did when I was a baby, I shut them out and pushed them away. Friends tried to call me and I wouldn’t answer. Instead, I curled up in my bed and cried. I only came out once: for the funeral.
His parents were nice to me at the funeral. But I know that if it hadn’t been for the fact their son was dead and he had loved me, they wouldn’t have even looked at me. I know they blamed me. They thought I distracted Brad too much from his goals and dreams. Maybe they wouldn’t have thought that if they’d been with us that last day he was alive.
We were sitting in his truck when he said, “What’s on your mind?”
I thought about this for a few minutes. Instead of answering him, I asked, “Do you ever think about the future?”
“Sure,” he answered.
“What do you see?” I asked him. He looked ahead and thought for a few minutes.
“What do you see?” he asked me.
“Brad, I’m serious,” I said. He looked at me in the eyes before answering.
“You,” he said. “I see you.”
We were both silent as we just sat there looking at each other and I smiled at him. Softly, he leaned in and kissed me. I never thought that would be the last kiss we ever had.
I started giggling and slid over to the door. “My dad will be mad if we’re out here too long.”
“But what do you see?” Brad called after me. I laughed and ran towards my house, leaving him. If I could go back, I would have never left that car.
He left after that. And before he could get home, he died.

When I finally went back to school, I could feel everyone staring at me as I walked through the halls. I wished they would stop staring. It didn’t help me. It didn’t make me miss him any less. It only made it worse. No amount of staring or hugging or crying could make me ever miss him less. Nothing would feel the emptiness and hurt I felt where my heart was. Or had been.
I tried going to class. I really tried. Everyone was staring. And then I looked across the aisle where Brad used to sit. The desk was empty. The girl behind me, Sarah, reached out and touched my shoulder. She was a close friend and usually I would have let her be there for me. Not this time though. I couldn’t sit there any longer. I grabbed my books and ran out of class.
I tried to sit at home and cry. My mother held my hair back while I threw up. Nothing was helping. Instead I ran. I ran from my house, through the yard, and down the road. There it was. A white cross surrounded by flowers on the shoulder of the road. I collapsed in front of it and sobbed. I sobbed until there was no tears left inside me.
Slowly, I pulled a piece of paper out of my back pocket. I had written it while I sat at home. I unfolded it and read:
What hurts the most was being so close. I had so much to say. I watched you walk away. I’ll never know what could have been. I couldn’t see that what I was trying to do is love you. That’s what hurts the most.
I dug with my hands in the dirt next to the cross. I folded the paper up and put it in the hole then covered it back up with the dirt.
“I saw you,” I whispered and reached out towards the cross. “I saw you.”