Knife In The Heart

The sharp piece of metal spins through the air as my ear buds scream in my ear. I sense the sharp thud of the knife finding its target. I look up to see the knife's blade in the center of the target. I never miss a target. Im like Katniss with her arrows. And like Katniss, my father taught me how to throw a knife. And also like Katniss, my father's dead. And today was the day of his funeral. He died in a helicopter crash in Iraq.

Well, a little about me. My name's Jason, I'm 20 years old, 175 lbs, have a somewhat athletically toned body. And gay (obviously). And I never thought about suicide until the day my Mom called me and told me my father died. And to top that off, the last conversation I had with my father was the biggest fight I ever fought with him. He caught me with a bong in my hand, totally jacked up. When I came to, he wanted me to go to rehab. He even signed me up for it. That just pissed me off so much that I just did even more and more. It was most likely the drugs, but I blocked him out of my life, til the day I found out about his untimely demise.

Anyway, back to the present. As I bend over to pick up another knife, I feel a firm grasp on my shoulder. I turn around, knife in hand, to see one of my father's army buddy's, Ryan. I've always found very attractive, from the first day I met him. He's probably the best example of a buffed out, hot shot army guy there is. But now was not the time to admire him. I take out my ear buds, before he pulls me into a tight bear hug. He puts his head on my shoulder and I do the same. I can feel the soft splatter of tears on my back.

"I am so sorry." he says with pain in his voice. I say nothing. I just embrace this first act of kidness towards me, since I heard the news. My mom and sister know of the fight me and my father had and the think I'm partly responsible for his death. After what seems to be a couple of minutes, he lets go of me.

There are a few tears rolling down his face. "You okay?" he asks. I just shake my head and turn around to retrieve the knives in the targets. I take every knife out of the snow and turn around to find Ryan still standing there, watching me with tears till rolling down his face. "You know, I'm not really in the talking mood at the moment," I say. He nods his head and turns around towards the back patio to my mom and sister.

My mom and sister sit in the back seat, grieving together in each other's arms, and I sit in the front seat in shotgun with Ryan in the front seat driving us to the cemetery for his funeral. I just stare out the window as my mom and sister silently cry. Ryan gives up on his attempts of small talk. As pull into the cemetery, my mom and sister cry harder and I just start to breathe harder and deeper. I don't know if I can do this. I may seem stronger than my mom and sister (who are crying even harder and exiting the car), but I'm not.

I open the car door, take in a deep breath, and step out onto the soft dirt snd close the car door. I can see a big group of people gathered around a casket a few hundred yards away, and we all walk towards them. My mom and sister walk together, practically holding onto each other for support, where I on the other hand, walk with no one by my side. But Ryan catches up with me and walks by my side.

As we sit down in the front row, we can finally see him, in his casket. He has six long scars, seven back together, all across his face. And he has a large bandage on his neck. I quickly dismiss the thought of doctors piecing him back together, when I start to notice more bruises, scars and bandages on him.

The priest begins to talk about him "ascending into heaven", but I just zone him out. I look down at the palm of my hands and try not to cry. When the preist signals us to come to the casket, to say our last goodbyes, Ryan puts his hand on my shoulder and sqeazes it. I stand up, taking in another deep breath and walk in the line, with Ryan still behind me. I try not to eavesdrop on everyone's goodbyes, so I just think of what I'm going to say. As I near the front, I can feel Ryan's hand on my shoulder again.

Does he have to keep on touching my shoulder? I push the thought out of my head when I get up to the front of the line. As I look down at my father's lifeless face, tears start to run down my face. "dad, I'm sorry I couldn't keep my promise. I'm sorry. I wont make the same mistake next time. I'm sure of it." I say. More and more tears roll down my face and I cry harder. "I just never had a time to tell you-- to tell you how happy you made me, before we fought. I'm sorry." then I cry so hard, I begin to choke on my own tears.

Nobody, not even Ryan, tries to calm me down. I just cry and walk back to the car, trying to catch my breath. I quickly walk back to the car, before my mom and sister. As I get in and close the door, I bite down on my jacket and give out a muffled scream. I finally unhook my mouth from my jacket when I hear the car doors open. Ryan quickly gives me another bear hug and slips a crickled piece of paper in my hand

***please tell me if you like this story in the comments, so I can put in a part two!!! Thank you***