Free A Forgotten Tomorrow by Teresa Schaeffer Page A

to the ground. My hands break my fall, but I land on broken glass. I try to hold it in, but I can’t.
    “Dammit!” I scream. I look at the palm of my hand and a tiny piece of glass is sticking out of my skin. I sit on the tarmac and tremble as I try to pull out the glass. My hands hurt so badly that I don’t pay any attention to the young woman approaching. “Shit!” I yell, pulling out as much of the glass as I can.
    “Are you okay?” the woman asks. She startles me.
    “I’m fine,” I respond, standing up and distancing myself from her.
    I try to walk away from her, but she grabs my arm.
    “Are you okay sweetie? Do you need help?”
    “Get off of me!” I yell. She does.
    She might have been trying to help, but she didn’t have to grab me. Besides, she probably just wanted to make a good impression to all the other rich idiots out here watching. That’s right, watching me. I hate that. I hate them. I wish they would all go away.
    I feel it now. My anxiety is rising and I feel angry. My stomach hurts even worse than it did before. I can’t hold it in and vomit escapes my mouth. I try to push it back in, but it only seeps through my fingers, landing on my already disgusting shirt. Now there are even more eyes staring at me, more comments from those passing. What is their problem?
    “What the hell are all of you looking at?” I yell, circling, looking at every one of them. “I don’t feel good, what’s the big deal? Mind your own business, you rich idiots!”
    I try to run, stumbling yet managing to stay on my feet. I don’t know where I am going exactly, because I’m not so sure where I am or which route to take to get back tomy bridge. Screw it, though. I just need to get out of here.
    Tears fall, even when it’s anger that is brewing inside me. I’m angry at myself, at these streets – but most of all, at Elijah. Why did he have to go? Why did he have to be so stupid? He could’ve been great as a normal person, having a normal life. Too late now. He’s gone.
    I don’t want to, but I see his face flashing before my eyes. He’s not handsome anymore, though – he is covered in blood. He wants me to help him, but it’s too late.
    “Get out of my head!” I yell.
    I don’t want to see him like that. I want to remember how he used to be, not how he was after what they did to him. Not like that. I can’t push him away; he is still there staring at me, trying to smile as blood drips off his forehead like sweat. Please let me forget. But I can’t forget, and maybe that’s because I don’t deserve to forget.
    The afternoon had been horrible that day, when it all went wrong. It was freezing cold outside and pouring with rain. I remember feeling miserable the entire day, even before I met Elijah. I didn’t want to do anything other than sleep or get high.
    After work, I’d immediately gone back to my bridge to rest. I was hungry, but didn’t care about food – I was too tired. I also wanted to take in my last line before sleeping and seeing Elijah. I knew he was going to be giving me a brand new bag, so one line would surely hold me over until then.
    There was nothing out of the ordinary about that morning. It was quiet, boring and monotonous. I didn’t expect anything more of the afternoon, even though Elijah and I were going to hang out. I thought it was going to be just the same as it always was. I was wrong – dead wrong.
    Anyway, I met Elijah at a sandwich shop near Benz Street around noon. I wasexcited to see him. With all that was going on in his life we didn’t get to see each other so often now. When we did, it was only for thirty minutes here or there, so not nearly enough time to progress our relationship. I’d thought about it for days, and then finally I’d decided that it was going to be today day when I asked. I had to know if he wanted us to be a couple. I hoped he would.
    We spent nearly an hour in the shop that day, eating, talking and joking around. It felt good to hear