Yes, I know I still have unfinished stories. Don't bite. xD

The poem in this story is called "Death of an Innocent" or "Mom", but I edited it slightly for this story. The poem is in italics.

Warning: A bit of language. And you may need a tissue ;_;

I went to a party, Scott,
I remembered what you said.
You told me not to drink, Scott,
So I drank soda instead.

The first thing I was aware of was the inky blackness all around me, with the occasional flash of red or blue. Fireworks? My mind was too fuzzy to tell.

The second thing I was aware of was an extreme amount of pain throughout my body. Where was it coming from? I couldn't even move, it all hurt too badly. I could tell I was laying face down on what felt like pavement covered in syrup. What was that?

I really felt proud inside, Scott,
The way you said I would.
I didn't drink and drive, Scott,
Even though the others said I should.

Oh god, it hurt so bad. My mind was so hazy …I couldn't stay awake for long. I drifted in an out for God knows how long. Where am I? Where's my family? I could still hardly see anything. A large shadow loomed over me - a car? - on one side while blinding lights blurred my vision from the other. I passed out again.

When I'd woken up more than I had in a while, I tried to find and move my arm to push myself up, but the small movement caused blinding pain I'd never felt before as I felt my mangled limb twist unnaturally.

I tried to cry out in pain, but it instead came out as a barely audible gurgle. Whatever was in my throat, I began to choke. As it ran through my mouth and over my lips, I trembled. Blood?

I know I did the right thing, Scott,
I know you are always right.
Now the party is finally ending, Scott,
As everyone is driving out of sight.

My vision continued to fade in and out, and I could barely keep a solid mind frame. It felt as though I were dreaming…As though this shifting reality would keep my rational mind just beyond my grasp.

Why am I alone? I gave a weak and garbled sob as the pain threatened to overcome me once more. What the hell happened?

As I got into my car, Scott,
I knew I'd get home in one piece.
Because of the way you raised me,
So responsible and sweet.

It seemed the one thing I could move with minimal pain was my eyes, though one felt like it was beginning to get swollen. I looked around, trying to clear my swirling vision as best I could and see as much as I could without tilting my head. I saw what looked like glass and blood strewn all around me, and the bent tire of a car.

Oh god, the crash…

I started to drive away, Scott,
But as I pulled out into the road,
The other car didn't see me, Scott,
And hit me like a load.

I wanted to scream out as the memory of the oncoming car filled my head, but the blood in my throat only made me go into a quieted fit of coughs and gurgles. I remembered…I tried to swerve, but it had happened too fast. They'd been going too fast.

Suddenly, I hear a siren and the squeal of tires. Please, God, let this end…

As I lay there on the pavement, Scott,
I hear the policeman say,
"The other guy is drunk," Scott,
And now I'm the one who will pay.

I heard voices and I tilted my head as far as I could without passing out in pain. I dazedly recognized that a few hands were trying to examine me, but I could no longer focus on them. I could only focus on the boy a few yards from me.

I recognized my friend Jack. Jack, who I'd talked to at the party. Jack, who I'd tried to convince to stop taking shots. Jack, who had a cut across his forehead.

Jack, who was now standing in front of a cop, explaining how he hadn't seen my car coming.

No, this isn't right…

I'm lying here dying, Scott...
I wish you'd get here soon.
How could this happen to me, Scott?
My life just burst like a balloon.

Even when I tried, I'd never been able to imagine what it was like to die. Was this it?

As the multitude of hands that were prodding me attempted to shift my arm from beneath my stomach – I hadn't even felt it there – I let out the loudest scream I could, though it barely met talking volume.

Another scream, much louder and farther away, seemed to answer mine.

There is blood all around me, Scott,
And most of it is mine.
I hear the medic say, Scott,
I'll die in a short time.

Again, I heard it. "Alan!" it cried, over and over. The voice sounded so sad, so panicked, so broken.

When the voice came closer, I realized with a jolt who it was.

I couldn't decide between wanting him to hold me and hoping he wouldn't see me like this.

I just wanted to tell you, Scott,
I swear I didn't drink.
It was the others, Scott.
The others didn't think.

"Move!" I heard the voice bark, but the bite in it was interrupted with tears.

"Sir, please – "

"I said move!"

I felt the figures around me begin to shift, and a pair of knees appeared a short distance from my face. I felt a gentle hand on my cheek.

"Sc-Sco…" I could barely mutter out.

He was at the same party as I.
The only difference is, he drank
And I will die.

"Hey, it's okay Al, we'll get you out of here," I heard Scott try and assure me through suppressed sobs. Liar.

When was the last time I saw Scott cry anyway? Ever?

I tried to tell him I was okay, that everything would be fine, but I couldn't get the breath up to do so. In a mix of relief because he was here, of the pain and fear I felt, I closed my eyes and gave a slight sob. Tears ran sideways across my face, mixing with the gravel and blood.

Why do people drink, Scott?
It can ruin your whole life.
I'm feeling sharp pains now.
Pains just like a knife.

"Sir, we have to get him to the helicop – "

I heard struggling, and Scott beginning to cry out, "NO, get your goddamn hands off of me!"

I looked up as best I could, and saw Scott clearly for the first time that night. Two cops were struggling on each side of him, trying their best to hold him still.

It was his eyes that got me.

His eyes, usually so calm and collected, full of wisdom he shouldn't have for his years, were wild and pleading, his face never leaving mine. When he realized I was looking up at him, his eyes widened and tears fell freely from them.

"Alan," he called out, so brokenly. "Al, come on, don't give up, kay? I'm right here."

The guy who hit me is walking, Scott,
And I don't think it's fair.
I'm lying here dying
And all he can do is stare.

I heard a few clicks, and I looked over just in time to see the second handcuff go over Jack's wrist. His face held nothing but dejection and fear as he looked into my face while being led to the cop car. I hear someone say he'll be away for 10 years.

What I wouldn't give to trade him for that now.

Tell Dad not to cry, Scott.
Tell Gordon to be brave.
And when I go to heaven, Scott,
Put "Hero" on my grave.

I can hear Scott continuing to struggle and cry, and it makes me think to my family. Oh God, what will they think?

I could imagine my father's face as he gets the phone call from Scott, his face going from shocked, to disbelief, to just pure agony. Then the others would find him, and he'd somehow have to tell them what Scott had told him…

Bile rose up in my throat at the thought, but I weakly fought it back.

Please God, can't I just talk to them one more time? Just once more…

Someone should have told him, Scott,
Not to drink and drive.
If only they had told him, Scott,
I would still be alive.

I'd tell Gordy how much I loved him being not just my brother, but my best friend. We'd planned to go to California together, just in a couple of weeks…If I'd taken another road home, we'd be going there. But now, I would ever get to.

I'd tell John how much I always looked up to and adored him. Even more so than Scott, he was always the calm one, keeping the family peace. I miss him so much. He knows that, right?

I'd tell Virgil how jealous I was of his creativeness, his sheer dedication in anything he loved, his amazing talent at being a good older brother. He could give Scott and John a run for their money on big brother talks. If only I could hear Virgil on his piano, once more…

I'd tell Dad how much I love him. No matter how many times we were at each others' throats, or how many times I'd yelled and screamed and threw a tantrum about even the smallest things, I knew I could never replace the love that he gave me. I just wanted to tell him I'd be okay…Not to worry, that I'd be with mom.

I wanted to tell Scott how much he amazed me. He was my second father. He never let me down. He protected and loved me in ways the others couldn't. I wanted to tell him the same as father, not to worry, not to be upset. I'd be okay soon, I felt it…

I looked up at Scott, and somehow I felt that he understood what I wanted to say. He shook his head and struggled harder, finally pulling away from the cops that had been holding him. "Alan, no!"

My breath is getting shorter, Scott.
I'm becoming very scared.
Please don't cry for me, Scott.
When I needed you,
you were always there.

The paramedics delicately attempted to roll me over onto the backboard once my neck was secure, but the movement made the pain triple and black dots swirl in my vision, and I couldn't help but cry out pitifully.


Please, not yet…Just a little longer…

I tried to regain my breath, but each one felt like a stab to my chest as blood poured into my lungs. My breaths slowly became more and more rasped and garbled, and I could feel my heart rate slow as my mind became more and more bleary.

"Alan, no – please no…"

I felt Scott's hand squeeze mine as the other lovingly smoothed out my hair from my forehead.

That gave me the calm that I needed. I wasn't alone now, I had nothing left to fear.

Before I closed my eyes, I tried to make him understand my final, unspoken words.

"I love you, Scott."

I have one last question, Scott,
Before I say good bye.
I didn't drink and drive,
So why am I the one to die?

We had a SKID (stop kids' intoxicated driving) presentation today in front of our senior class for prom, where they reenacted a deadly car crash using people we know from our school as the actors - and the boy who "died" also had his parents act, having them being "called to the scene" and start crying hysterically...And as he was being put into a body bag (a real one, I might add), he recited this same poem in a recording, and you could hear his voice crack as he started to cry...It was intense. I cried so much, even though I never talk to him anymore. It was what inspired me to write this.

I hope you liked it, let me know!