Can't Save What Doesn't Want To Be Rescued | Teen Ink

Can't Save What Doesn't Want To Be Rescued

June 26, 2009
By *LunaNight* GOLD, Staten Island, New York
*LunaNight* GOLD, Staten Island, New York
12 articles 0 photos 46 comments

As I leave the key in the ignition, I open the door, and walk out into to rain, shrouded in blackness. Pulling the hood over my head, I squint down to the little cell phone in my hands, and shut it off before throwing it onto the floor, kicking it as far as it would go.
Walking up to the mouth of the alley, I was suddenly scared stiff. What am I doing? Even if I were to accomplish something, will it be worth it?
I’m second guessing myself, yet I know that it’s too late for me.
“Bliss…? Come here please…” Hearing the faint echo of my name coming out of the darkness, I walked forward, even though the very core of my being was screaming at me not to.

Waking up, I was now groggy with sleep, and a headache was buzzing in me head, becoming louder and louder with each passing second…minute…hour... I no longer had an idea as to how much time was passing, but I could grasp the fact that it was blistering hot which seemed to absorb my energy as much as the sun evaporates water. I felt every muscle, trying to stretch the soreness out of my limbs, and the sharp, tingling numbness that seemed to take place of my arms and legs. Fluttering my eyes open, I was surprised to see that it was morning to me, even though the sun high above the sky clearly stated it was afternoon; the scorching sun baking me in its lava heat. I opened my mouth to complain at the oven I felt entombed in, but my mouth and throat was drier than the ground I lay on, my tongue feeling like a cats, or as if it was swollen, then run down with sandpaper.
Propping myself up, I fell back down, cracking my head on the solid ground. I tried to think of what happened last night, how much I hated every minute of it; but I didn’t. The entire time, I was craving for more, begging to go in deeper into the sweet ecstasy I felt all night. Yeah, I had to work over time for a week to pay for it, and snatch a few bills from my moms stash in her top drawer, but it was worth it all. If I had the time to, I would spend the rest of the month working just to experience it again, but I no longer had time.
Trying to get up again, I crawled my way to a nearby trash bin, curling under its shadow. For the first time, I realized where I was. Being in the same alley as the night before was surprising because everything was the same, yet completely different. The trash bin I’m under now didn’t look like that the night before, but like a buried treasure chest, encrusted with jewels, gems, and ruby’s that dazzled when the moon hit it right. The bags of trash opposite of me looked like giant black crows, their feathers glinted blue and purple, ruffling with the little breeze.
But now, all that was left was a grimy trash bin, and bags of garbage that smelled of fish and sewage, even though they seemed to smell like wildflowers and lilac last I remember.
Now my body wasn’t numb anymore, but felt weak and seemed to shake uncontrollably. I didn’t understand what was happening to me, until I felt something tug at the back of my head, pulling my eyes up, until all I saw was darkness. Instead of shaking like before, I was having earthquakes ricocheting through me, and I could feel something foam like dribble out of my mouth. Being in nurses training for approximately two weeks, I thought I was having an aftershock effect from the Ink, but hearing my pulse thrum louder and louder in my ears, and now tasting the metallic warmth of blood flow through my throat and in my mouth said otherwise.
Last I remember was a mans voice screaming in the distance for help, yet at the same time, he sounded like he was right at my ear. I felt warmth on either side of my arms, but I didn’t know if they were trying to shake me out of this state since I was vibrating so much.
But throughout this possible death, all I could think about was the exciting adrenaline that pulsed through me when I have Ink, and wondering when the next time I will get another hit...

Waking up yet again, I didn’t feel groggy, just confused. Where did the heat go, and when did this scratchy sheet engulf me in its warmth? Since when was the burning sun replaced by the noisy air conditioner in the corner on the top wall to the left of the room? But, looking at the IV connected to my arm explained that I was in a hospital. Looking at the tube that connected to the needle in my arm made me instinctively cringe back. I’ve always hated needles. That’s why I’ve liked Ink so much. You don’t use needles, but a paint brush; so the pulling and tugging the needle made in my arm was uncomfortable, and wrong. Different.
Flicking my eyes to the man I now noticed in the arm chair by the comfy cot I was resting in, I was surprised to see a young boy, no older than my age, or, well, the age I look. Watching him stir, seeing if he was waking up, I studied his features.
His long, dark curls glittered in the florescent lights; and his creamy, bronze skin wasn’t sun tanned, but obviously genetic in its texture. Looking closer at his face, his red, plump lips moved in irritation, almost puckering in discomfort. I was surprised to feel a yearning in me to reach over and sketch his mouth with my finger, running my lips over its soft skin. Intensity, an urge fiercer than the one I’ve felt for Ink. He had a strong nose, but curve at the bottom, making it more childish than teenager. His high cheekbones made me think of my grandfather, who was Brazilian and a Cherokee.
I was so busy staring at his beautiful face, than when his eyes suddenly opened, revealing a flash of green, flecked with gold, I yelped in surprise. His long, black lashed blinked furiously before stopping completely, and flicked straight at me. I held his gaze for as long as I could, but had to look away because that same yearning in me was clawing its way out, and I had to grip tightly to the bed for fear of jumping off and kissing his beautiful face with more compassion than I’ve ever thought was possible to experience.
Getting up, he seemed to be debating to stay or go, until he settled on sitting back down, reaching over the back of the chair, and pressed a white button on the wall. Almost instantly a woman appeared in the doorway, wearing one of those tacky nurse uniforms I had to wear as a temp/student, and stared shuffling around the room, doing what seemed like nothing significant.
I looked back at the being with the emerald eyes and latte skin, but found him staring at me, which caused my bronze skin to blush, which I thought was impossible since I’ve never done that before.
When I was opening my mouth to speak, he did the same, and we both shut our mouths, and started laughing about nothing. I was experiencing a series of raw emotions I never thought were possible or existed outside of books. Extending my hand, and smiling at his puzzled expression, I said, “Bliss Sterling. Aspiring artist.” Putting his warm and in mine, and me hoping he didn’t see the goose bumps that snaked its way up my arm, he told me in a honey thick voice that reminded me of morning sunshine, “Isaiah Warm Ice”.
“Interesting name,” I said and saw he looked a little shy, “what does it mean?”
“It was my mother who named me. Warm Ice, meaning strength of the sun, defeater of the darkness. It’s a very old name,” he added at the end, as if trying to explain why it was so different.
“Warm Ice. I like it.” We smiled again at each other, until I realized what was really going on. “Why am I in a hospital?” I asked, wondering if I was hurt, even though I didn’t feel any pain.
He seemed to look shocked at first; almost as in he was surprised I didn’t already know. “Well… I found you in a…an… alley, and it seemed you… um… I think we should wait for the doctor.”
“An alley?” All I recalled were buried treasure and birds…
“Yes…” he said slowly, pronouncing it slowly, as if for my benefit.
“Why won’t you tell me?” I whispered, a little afraid of the answer.
He fiercely grabbed my hand, but instantly dropped it, as if I was on fire, and he was scalded. We both looked at each other shocked eyed, but I immediately turned my attention to the door when two tall police men came in.

The author's comments:
I wrote this because i have loved ones, very close friends and family, who was lost in drugs, and this was inspired by that. i hope i didnt offend, and i hope i didnt expose in any way. i wrote this for the people i have lost to drugs...

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This article has 2 comments.

on Sep. 15 2009 at 12:36 pm
Onceknown BRONZE, Denver, Colorado
1 article 0 photos 78 comments

Favorite Quote:
Courage is doing what your afraid to do
There can be no courage unless your scared
-Eddie Rickerbacker

I really enjoyed reading this!