Theo let out a sigh of satisfaction as he put down the pint of beer. Nothing was better, nothing was worse. Realizing he had attained himself a beer mustache, he started feeling around for it. As he was cleaning his upper lip, his hand reached his lower jaw…and the scar it held. Taking a deep breath in, Theo sunk back into his chair in regret. The very feeling he had been avoiding. Rubbing the scar, he slowly closed his eyes. Soon enough, he was lost in the past again.
Theo found himself on a narrow piece of ice, about the size of a door. With him, was his best friend Julio, and one jacket for the two of them. It was 4am, and neither had found an inch of sleep. It was too cold and too dangerous. Theo looked down at his companion. A look of pity on his face as he stared at the cross legged man seated in a dry pool of red, a bloodied jacket sat wrapped around his wounded chest to keep him from turning paler, but it wasn’t working. Soon enough Julio would steal the snow’s colour.
Theo screamed at the ocean in anger. What had they done to deserve this…everything, every life crushed was a result of their helplessness. There’s nothing else they could have done to provide for their families. Crying, Theo dropped to the floor, while his friend shared the jacket with him. “Don’t worry Julio, I wont let them take you away from me.” Theo’s words hit both of them hard.
Julio turned away, looking at the great blue and the arising light behind it. Soft white beads dropped from the sky and met the ocean. This would have been a beautiful sight if he wasn’t on the verge of death. He looked back at a shivering Theo. At this rate, they were both bound to die. Sharing the jacket would be useless, but neither of them had the courage to take it for themselves.
Finally, Julio got up, letting the jacket drop behind him. Putting on a brave face, he glanced at Theo before leaping into the ocean. “Julio!” His friend screamed before catching him by the leg. “This is suicide Julio!” He said, trying to pull his friend back to safety. “I know! And I don’t care!” A breaking voice answered before punching Theo in the face, who in return struggled to steady himself, but the second punch would not allow that. Before he knew it, he was on the ground, muttering Julio’s name. A jacket thrown over him, and his friend…swimming into the icy arms of death.
Theo moved his hand off his jaw, 30 years after the incident, and it wasn’t bleeding anymore. But that’s it, that’s all that had changed. his wounds had been renewed, but the sharp pain he felt in his heart every time he realized he couldn’t save the one person he should have, that feeling would never leave.