Imaginary

Others Stories | Sep 15, 2016 | 6 min read
20 Votes, average: 4 out of 5
I received some terrible news today. To tell you the truth, it caught me completely off guard. I spent the morning at my best friend Steven's house. We sat at the dining room table in awkward silence. Steven pushed his eggs back and forth on his plate. This was not the norm, old Stevie-boy usually talked my ear off, but not this morning. Steven lifted his eyes from the pile of untouched, freshly scrambled lumps and looked at me sorrowfully.

"I have to tell you something."

"Sure thing bud, I am always here for you." I tried to sound supportive, but my worry had to be easy for him to see.

Steven rose from his seat and waved for me to follow him to his room.

"You have been my best friend for as long as I can remember." I nodded as he spoke. "But, I don't think we can be friends anymore."

"What are you talking about, Steven?" I replied.

"Now that I am twelve, I don't need an imaginary friend anymore." Steven looked at me solemnly.

Dumbfounded, I searched for words to say. "I am not imaginary. We have been best friends for six years now. I sleep over at your house all the time." I pointed out as many facts as I could to prove my existence.

"Exactly, you sleep over at my house. You live in my closet." Steven became agitated with my proclamation that I was real. "You came when my father died, I needed someone and you came. My mom said I should start to…"

"Your mom!" I interrupted. "She never liked me. Does she still blame me for breaking the dishwasher door? We both know it was you standing on it." I pointed my finger at Steven. "I took the blame for a lot of stuff; that's what friends do, they stick up for each other."

"Look, I am not saying that you haven't been a good friend." Steven was back to his sorrowful face. I hated that face, it was the same he wore the day I met him, after his father's funeral. He had big brown eyes like a puppy dog and for me, it was hard to say no to him. From the first day we met, I knew we would be the closest of friends.

"It was hard getting over my father, and you have always been here for me." Steven cleared his throat and continued. "But I am no longer in elementary school and I don't need you anymore."

His words cut me deep.

"Oh, you don't need me. But, what if I need you?" Crushed, I sat on the edge of his bed. I stared at the toys in the corner of his room; we use to play with them every day. Now they were clutter, tossed aside and abandoned.

I dwelled on a single thought, "Am I really imaginary?" I couldn't remember anything about my life outside of being Steven's friend. Why didn't this ever occur to me? I never spoke to anyone else, how could that be? What am I now, one of these old toys, just piled up in the corner and forgotten?

"I'm sorry." Steven left the room and closed the door behind him.

The first month was painful. Steven ignored me completely. All day, I watched over his shoulder, waiting for him to talk to me. Even a simple hello, would do. Sadly nothing came, not a word or a wave. I once caught him looking at me, for a moment I thought we would finally talk, but he shook his head and left the room.

Six months ticked by and Steven never even acknowledged me. I tried to get his attention, jumping up and down and screaming at the top of my lungs, but it was as if I wasn't even there. The isolation wore on me, grinding my soul, if I even had one.

Even the world itself rejected me. I tried to throw coffee cups and hide car keys, but I couldn't move them. They wouldn't budge at all. The world was now stone to me and I was powerless to stop it. The mirrors stopped working for me. I am not fading away because I can still see myself. I finally found my reflection in the shiny windshield of one of Steven's old remote sports cars. I looked so thin and much older than I remembered. That was the last time I looked at the car. I didn't need to know how awful I really looked.

Two years pass and nothing. The boy I knew now stood a foot and a half taller; his smooth skin was now riddled with acne. I would mock him senselessly if he would hear me, that's what a good friend would do after all. Most days now I spent in the attic playing with our old toys. Like me, he abandoned them. His mother stuck them up here in the dark. Oh, how I hate that woman. She was always jealous of how close Steven and I were. He came to me with his problems. I stayed up late with him. He loved me more than her. That is why she forced him to leave me. Now here I sit in the dark.

I had a thought on Steven's seventeenth birthday. It took the loss of a parent to bring us together didn't it? I came to realize that this is the only way for us to be friends again. We need each other, he will see, he has to see.

The next day, I followed Steven's mom. I know her name, but I refuse to use it. She doesn't deserve to be remembered. She caused all of this and I will use her to fix it.

I found something useful in my exile in the attic. I could still touch the toys Steven and I played with. Items I used back when I was real, like the toys, still responded to my touch. I can't pick up a gun or a sword, but I can make due with one of these old friends.

The car started in the garage with "her" behind the wheel. She wasn't aware, but I sat in the passenger seat, glaring at her.

I waited for my opportunity to strike. There, I see it, ahead waited a busy intersection ripe for my bad intentions. The car cruised at fifty five miles an hour; that should be enough. From my pocket I pulled a red wooden block. This old friend should do the trick. I reached down to the floor of the driver's side of the car and wedged it under the brake pedal.

"That should do it." I proclaimed to myself. I doubted I would die given my imaginary nature, but I hoped it wouldn't hurt. These were drastic times, so I continued on.

The car didn't slow down as it plowed into the back of the pickup truck stopped at the red light. The impact was far more brutal than I imagined, as I rag dolled into the dashboard and bounced into the back seat. Both cars slid in to the intersection directly in to oncoming traffic. I am sure she died in the first impact; the second impact left no doubts as the Honda shattered into small hunks of scrap.

It hurt, but I wasn't injured. The second impact flung me from the wreckage. I dragged myself to the sidewalk. Pain filled my body and I, in no way, wanted to experience that again. There was a bright side, now I could have my Steven back. All these years and finally, he will be mine again.

The pain dissipated quickly, in fact I was left without a scratch. This was good, because I had a long walk home.

I reached the house in time for Steven to receive the call about the accident. This was it, I just knew it. I stood face to face with my best friend, waiting for him to need me again. Those eyes, those sad puppy dog eyes full of tears were back, just like when he was six.

He hung up the phone and cried. I placed my hand on his shoulder, he will understand, he will agree this was the right thing.

Steven picked up the phone and dialed a number. "My mom just passed away, I don't want to be alone. Could you come over?"

"But you are not alone, I am here. Can't you see me?" He didn't respond. For the next twenty minutes I talked to my dearest friend, consoling him for his loss. He never replied.

A knock came from the door and Steven rose and answered it. At the door stood a pretty blonde girl, about the same age as Steven. They hugged and Steven cried on her shoulder.

"No, NOOOOOOOOO!" I screamed. "This isn't fair, he needs me! He needs his best friend!"

The two sat on the couch holding hands and talking. Steven told her about every important thing in his life, everything except me. I clinched my teeth and shook in a fit of rage.

I screamed in his face. "You are mine! She can't steal you! SHE CAN'T HAVE YOU!"

He wouldn't listen. That night I raged and threw everything I could in the attic, smashing toys into boxes of Christmas ornaments and old framed family portraits. My torment wasn't heard by Steven, because he wasn't at home, he was out with her, the "New" her.

I hid myself away in the attic for what seemed to be an eternity. He threw me away, he doesn't want me back. I can't leave him, I know that. We are the same, he and I. I must show him. The dust came to rest on me; layer after layer piled up like a sheet.

My Zen like trance helped me to think clearly. I focused on my past and considered my present. The future took shape and formed before me.

It was then I knew what I must do. If I can't be with Steven, I can be like him. More specifically, I could make him like me. He has left me lonely and abandoned, so I will do the same for him.

It may not happen all at once, but after I tear everyone he will ever love away from him, he will understand. Maybe after the death of a few wives, or a child, he will lose hope.

In this way we will be together again. Who knows, after he has suffered long enough, maybe he will need me again?

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1401Glokk Dec 11, 2016

good story

1401Glokk Dec 11, 2016

good story

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