• Everything seemed to be going slow that day, for the nineteen year old student. Class was slow, even sleeping was slow, but there was a very good reason for that, because today, it was Christmas. Steven, the nineteen year old student, was wandering down the same, hollow streets he did as a child. A backpack in one hand and the other, buried deep into his pocket. A white headphone, was half-heartedly stuck into his left ear, while the right one just bounced off his chest. His eyes remained glued to the path ahead, nothing seemed to be happening, just a regular day. That was until Steven turned the corner. Nearly the entire street, including a few police and firemen, were crowded around one house: Steven's house. So many questions ran through the young students mind, it was all so confusing to him. Why were they there? It all didn't seem right, like a dream. Of course Steven was too afraid too pinch himself, so he assumed he was awake. Taking a step forward, Steven noticed everybody was looking up, at a roof, his roof. Everybody's eyes focused on one thing, a man. Following their eyes and looking up, Steven saw something that shocked and horrified him to the bone, his father. He was standing there, motionless, like a gargoyle on the bell tower of a church, mindlessly staring at the sky ahead.

    It was all so wrong, weird and confusing to the boy. Today had been so slow and now it moved so fast, everything was like a blur to Steven, the crowd, the police, even his own father, was nothing but a blur to him. He felt sick to his stomach, a chill ran down his spine, nothing scared him more than losing a parent and yet, here his father was, about to take his own life. Steven wanted to run over and scream his father’s name, hoping he would come to his senses and climb down, but his legs were frozen in place and his mouth felt like it had been glued shut, he was powerless to do anything, all he could do was watch.

    After a few seconds of staring, his father finally moved, extending his left foot forward and turning his head to the right. Steven gasped, not because his father was about to jump, but because he was staring right at him, their eyes locking in a moments gaze. The worst part of it all was, he was smiling, like nothing was happening, like everything was okay, that’s what scared Steven the most, that warm, sweet smile. Then, without another moments wait, Steven’s father, the man he cherished and loved above all people, leaned forward and fell off the roof. From there it was all a blur, the last thing Steven remembered was running over, pushing past everybody in the crowd. Then staring, blankly at his fathers mangled body. His neck was snapped, showing some spine and his legs were broke in a way that it’d be impossible to put them straight. Everyone gasped, people covered their eyes, some even turned away. Not Steven. He stared and stared, like there was nothing there. Tears ran down his cheeks and hit the floor below him, creating small pools of sadness.

    A short, stubby policeman waddled over to Steven and put his little arm, onto the young student’s shoulder, adding a sigh like it was his father who had died, “I’m sorry kid, there was nothing we could do” Was all the man said. With those words, he turned and left Steven to cry, without sobs or screams. Just empty shells of water, something he knew his father didn’t want. Then, out of those tear-stained eyes, Steven spotted something, his fathers hand was closed, tightly, even though he was dead. That grip raised questions in Steven’s mind, the main one being, what was he holding? With a quick wipe of his eyes, using the back of his hands, the young student ran over and dropped to his knees, right in front of his father, so he could get to his father’s hand but no-one else could see him do it.

    Everyone in the crowd just assumed he was grieving for his father, getting close to the man to hold him tight and continue to cry. That worked well for Steven it stopped them looking while he grabbed his fathers hand, kissed it once, then opened it, slowly. Those few seconds scared him, what could possible lie in that hand? Steven wanted to know and when it was open, his question was answered. A single piece of paper, small and folded up, causing Steven to assume it was a suicide note, even though the paper was too small to even hold two words, never mind a whole letter. Nervously, Steven reached out and grabbed the paper, pulling it back, close to his face so he didn’t have to put his reading glasses on. Steven held it in his right hand and opened it in his left, which lead to a surprise he never would’ve expected, the note read ‘look behind you’. Everything now seemed so weird, like a dream or, like his father had planned all this out, just to show him something, but what? Momentarily ridding himself of his fears and worries, Steven turned his body, only slightly, so he could look over his shoulder. Out the corner of his eye, a shock, that over-shadowed all other shocks, made it self known to the fearful young student. His father, standing there, with that same, warm smile, plastered onto his face, like nothing had happened.

    Steven just couldn’t believe it, there was his father, in two places. One a dead, twisted mess and the other, a happy and very much alive man. The boy, who’s heart was beating at a million beats per minute, watched as his father gestured his son closer, his eyes holding some secret, one Steven needed to know. He jumped to his feet and ran speedily at his father, his breathing fast and heavy, like his heart. His eyes never leaving his father’s body. That was until Steven reached him, he leaped forward and extended both arms to hug his father, too just hold him tightly and cry into his chest. That didn’t happen, instead Steven fell to the ground, his body hitting the floor, followed by his head. Steven looked up, with one hand on his bruised head and tried to find his father, who was no longer there, just a few remaining people who stared, with raised eyebrows, at the young boy. Who just lay on the floor, his eyes now more confused than ever. This had to be some cruel joke, a friend or relative playing a trick on him, just to see him cry, well it worked and worked well. Looking down, Steven just wanted to cry again and let himself get ran over, but that wasn’t to be. His eyes were drawn to a small, yellow piece of paper that lay on the ground. Just like in his fathers hand, what it would hold, whatever it was, Steven was no more terrified than ever to read it.