Several weeks went passed as though they were mere days for Johnny as he prepared to move out. It took some time for a background check to pass, but after that, it was a blurry mess of paperwork, packing, moving, negotiations with the landlord, and unpacking.
Despite his father's favorable opinion of the apartment, Johnny failed to see the appeal. Cramped, spartan, and far removed from the quiet of his parent's residence, it wasn't at all what he wanted. But if he were to gain those luxuries, it would be difficult to scrape by with a part-time job.
The luggage and goods were stowed away, and it soon came time for his parents to bid him farewell.
His mother lightly tightened her embrace around Johnny, "We'll send you messages every day, okay?" She promised.
"Sure mom." He replied. He grimaced as she squeezed tighter.
His father eyed him with a somewhat critical gaze, "Remember, you have that interview with the department store next week. Don't forget it."
"I'll try not to."
After that, they departed.
Three days later, Johnny promptly locked himself indoors and indulged himself with what he did best: speedrunning. The hours he spent on the first day gradually turned to days. Those days slid imperceptibly by. It was at the conclusion of the fourth week that we look to. Needless to say, he forgot about the interview.
As one would expect, the four weeks of seclusion had taken its toll on him. The food that his parents had gifted him in celebration of his move had long been depleted. Unkempt, and wide-eyed from unending, consecutive nights of gaming with no human interaction, he was assuredly in the worst condition he had ever been in.
His mother, who had been sending daily text reminders to take care of himself, eventually ceased.
"They must have given up on me." He dismally surmised.
It did seem as though they gave up on him, and he sadly seemed to accept that as his reality. However, the emotions evoked by the good-intentioned abandonment soon subsided as the monotonous days wore on.
He stood up to check the refrigerator for the third time that day. Empty again.
No matter, ordering food works just fine, no need to go to the supermarket today. This phase had become second nature to him. There wasn't any purpose in leaving his apartment.
For the first time in days, he decided to check his phone. He wasn't expecting anything. His parents had already given up on him as a son. He wasn't important enough, or talented enough, to require daily checkups anymore.
The phone didn't respond to his taps. It was dead.
Johnny sunk to his knees, his head hung low. How pathetic. He couldn't leave the apartment, and couldn't even check his phone to see it was dead. His mother must have been worried about him not answering.
A tear rolled down his face, "Why does everything I do have to go wrong?"
It's not as if any of his problems were too difficult to solve, but for him, they were near impossible. He could find no ambition, no will to straighten himself out. He would've begged anyone for help, but his own pride would have kept him from taking that step. That is if there even was someone to beg.
I'm the worst kind of person.
That was what he believed. Defeated by even the simplest tasks, and discouraged without even a fight. The last thing he could hold onto was his speedrunning. What he would give to have something to cling to, something to give purpose to his life.
After quietly sobbing in his huddled position of self-pity for roughly twenty minutes, he shakily stood to retrieve the charger for his phone. He plugged it in and scrolled through the avalanche of messages left by his mother.
"Make sure you're eating right, Johnny."
"The supermarket's produce is on sale today."
"If you don't keep track of what's on sale, you'll waste your money."
"Are you there?"
This was followed by numerous copies of the same message, followed by more worrying ones of the same nature. Gradually, they took on a more subdued tone. The last message, dated four days ago, read.
"I'm sorry we did this to you, but believe me, we thought it was for your own good. Maybe with enough time, you'll get used to living on your own. If you ever need anything, maybe we can talk a little."
Johnny's heart lifted at the kind words written on the screen. Never had he seen anything more wonderful in his life, his mother's supportive, caring words were the best things he could have ever hoped for.
Those encouraging words gave him a will to succeed.
"Thank-you-mom-for-all-your-messages. I'm-fine-now, don't-worry, I-wasn't-paying-attention-to-my-phone." He repeated his text aloud.
Sent.
If he only thought for a moment, during the entire time he had locked himself away in his apartment, about the worry he had caused his parents, would he have done things differently? He did nothing but drown in his self-pity, and tried to run away from his shortcomings as a student and as a person. But that's going to change. From that moment on, he resolved to make his first appearance out in the world, for the first time on his own since college over a year ago. But... perhaps he should get cleaned up before leaving...
-
It was a bright afternoon sun that nearly blinded Johnny as he emerged from his apartment complex. Cars lazily rolled along the main thoroughfare, and pedestrians made their daily commutes, to where Johnny couldn't begin to guess, for they went every which way. They were disorienting to keep track of.
His attention, however, was not entirely focused on the haphazard traffic. Instead, it was directed at one goal: the supermarket.
With a slight spring to his ungainly step, he stepped out into what he hoped would be the start of a new life, a new outlook on himself and a new world that would let him live a life that he could be happy with. The first thing that came to mind to master his new life was to conquer the supermarket.
He stepped out onto the first crosswalk that would take him in the direction of his destination. He awkwardly shuffled between crowds of pedestrians. At some points, he believed he might vomit.
"Crowds are going to take a bit to get used to, huh?" He commented under his breath.
"Mommy, where are we going next?" A young girl's voice inquired.
"We're going to the market dear." Was her mother's reply.
"And where next?" The young girl asked. And so the game began.
"To an appointment at the doctor's office."
"And next?"
A mother and her inquisitive young daughter were participating in the age-old banter that many children the girl's age find unlimited enjoyment in. Johnny remembered doing the same thing to his mother too. How annoyed she would get after the fifth and sixth repetition. The scene brought a smile to his face.
The crowd made its way through the crosswalk. Johnny continued watching the mother and child chatter aimlessly. It really was amazing, he thought. Around sixteen years ago, he was that girl's age. His mind wandered through his childhood memories. It wasn't all so bad back then. It was a time when he didn't have to care about how poorly he did in school and was blissfully unaware of the shadows of his family about him. What a carefree time that was.
Suddenly, he was unceremoniously wrenched from his reverie by the blaring of multiple car horns in unison. In a frenzied stampede of terror, the crowd broke apart. Pedestrians ran blindly into Johnny in their haste to flee the crosswalk. Dumbfounded, he glanced around to ascertain what transpired.
"Oh, that's a big bus." He observed in trepidation.
The bus's screeching horn grew to a deafening pitch as it rapidly neared the crosswalk. It showed no signs of stopping, even though the crowd wasn't entirely out of the crosswalk yet.
"Mommy, where are you?" A familiar voice called out.
It was the girl from before. She was alone in the middle of the crosswalk, her mother nowhere to be seen. The mother must have been swept away by the chaotic torrent of pedestrians, leaving her child behind.
John noticed that the girl was crying, obviously from the sudden cacophony of horns. But more importantly, he saw that she was unaware of the danger barreling towards her.
Time seemed to stop. At that moment, Johnny was not ten meters away from where the girl was standing. His eyes darted back and forth between the girl and the receding crowd. Was no one going to save her? Not a single person was going to try to save her?
His mind was in turmoil. No one cared enough to notice the little girl in the middle of the road, and get her out of harm's way?
Johnny's body tensed. He inhaled sharply and readied himself for what might be a life-changing event.
"Agggh, GOD DAMNIT, WHY ME!!!"
With a cry of exasperation, Johnny threw all of his strength into closing the gap. Seven meters... four meters... The bus was approaching way too fast... two meters... it was already on top of them, there wasn't enough time for him to get out of the way...
"AGGGGGHHHH!!!"
With the last bit of stamina that his weak, shut-in body could muster, he threw himself at the girl. His light frame bounced off of her, propelling her forward and out of the bus' path.
The out-of-control bus continued on its path of destruction further down the street, flinging debris in its wake. The crowd, having come to their senses after the danger passed, gasped in horror at the scene it left behind.
Blood pooled around the tangle of arms, torso, and head that lay in the crosswalk. Some parts were unrecognizable, as most of the flesh ripped against the rough asphalt before being exhumed from underneath the bus' wheels and frame.
Johnny was still alive, but only barely. From the hips down his body was missing. A fountain of blood spouted from his mouth as he coughed, as it did from his abdomen.
"Just when I was about to change things..." Johnny managed to choke out.
He laughed inwardly at his own misfortune. After what seemed an endless cycle of shut-in tendencies, he finally decided to become a better person, only to be reduced to a legless corpse.
Did he even save the girl? He wondered
Johnny tried to turn his head to confirm the girl's safety but abandoned the notion after a sickening vertigo inundated his senses. He couldn't feel his legs, and the pain in his chest and stomach were excruciating. His arms were frozen stiff, even though it was the middle of summer.
Was he seriously going to die? There were so many games he hadn't broken a record in yet. There was so much he could do to make something of himself. There was still that interview. Maybe they would consider him again for the position at that department store.
Johnny head rolled over on its side as his strength waned. A singular tear rolled down his face,
"Maybe... maybe I can truly be their son..." His hoarse voice croaked.
It was in the bright sunlight of a summer day. Cars blaring their sirens, pedestrians shuffling back and forth to view a scene that would make one queasy. Amidst it all were the bodies of a young man and a small girl, lying only meters away from each other in the middle of a crosswalk, linked by a red ribbon of blood.