Renegades

By Kyle Ethan Valla

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Drip…

Drip…

Drip…

The rain. It had made its way down to the fourth floor, near our homeroom. What was left was the natural element breaching our artificial world in the form of a waterfall flowing down a flight of stairs, with its perpetrator being the doors to the rooftop, opened slightly enough to allow the rainstorm outside to make its entrance. Looking down, observing my now soaked sneakers, the realization of what caused this slight flooding slowly trickled down. She was already there, from the looks of it. She had been up there for a while.

Each step I took up to reach the rooftop felt like my heart got heavier, and my brain was racing, becoming frantic to find the perfect combination of words to say to her.

            “I heard the news.”

            “I’m sorry about what happened.”

"It wasn't your fault.”

"I'm here for you,” I said all in my head, meshing the words together like puzzle pieces to form an appropriate response to tell her, but none of it could really capture how I truly felt and how much I needed her to be okay. By the time I reached the exit to the rooftop, a few seconds of hesitation and doubt took hold of me, and my hand stopped gliding towards the doorknob. There was nothing in that moment I could say to her that felt authentic to how devastated I, too, felt about Ms. Cedra. She was a late mentor for me, the only one who didn't see me as a lazy delinquent. But she was also like an aunt to her; they used to be so close, only growing distant as the years went by. Now she was gone, leaving her everlasting impression on both of us, and she, without a proper goodbye from a person she admired greatly.

Reminiscing about her presence in the short 4 months that I knew her, I remembered what Ms. Cedra told me back when senior year began.

"One of the most isolating things you can do right now is to hold whatever you want to say to someone out of fear of them thinking of you any differently. You’ll find out that it helps no one, not even the person; they’ll think you’re just avoiding them.”

Her face came into mind, nearly causing me to choke.

            “It’s better to tell her as soon as you can; better it's out there sooner than later.”

Now, remembering those scoldings after tutoring, I knew it was all out of concern, not just for her but also for me; only now, finally recognizing her true intentions, something in me broke. And the void within the back of my brain cast me back into its clutches. I failed her; I couldn't keep that promise.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Cedra, I wasn't the kid you’d hope for me to turn out.”

Drip…

Drip…

Drip…

By the time I snapped out of my drunken stupor, lying down in a bar booth, I looked to the nearby window to see that the rain had already begun to dwindle. I looked at my phone to be greeted by the horror of how long I had drifted off. 10:26 pm. I was nearly half an hour late for the concert.

Without a second of hesitation, I quickly jumped out of the booth, grabbed my jacket, and hurried out of the bar. I made a mad dash to get to the venue as quickly as possible, every sharp turn on the street nearly causing me to trip and fall, and the few times I fell, I got up and picked up the pace even more. Something within my bones prevented me from slowing down: adrenaline, or anticipation perhaps? With heavy pants of exhaustion from using whatever stamina I had left after running for what felt like a mile, I braced myself through it all and quickly tried to regain composure as I approached the doors of the venue.

            The band was already more than half finished with their setlist, with the blare of the audience screams and loud instrumentals echoing throughout the empty, damp streets outside of the building. Gathering my breath, I show my phone to the bouncers of the venue to show the ticket app.

"Sorry, the venue is already closed for the night,” one of the bouncers said, nodding his head in disapproval.

I tried to explain that one of my friends was already in and was looking for me.

"Sorry, the maximum capacity of the building is heavily enforced here; you should’ve set an alarm to come sooner.”

No matter how much I pleaded to them about letting me enter, it was all null & void. I looked past the slight opening into the club’s doors to see the crowd dancing and waving their arms around like it was the time of their lives. I can only imagine how she felt being in there alone and disappointed, and how happy she was when we got those tickets to her favorite band and the hours we spent reminiscing on their discography. All of it, now in vain, because I couldn't keep my end of the promise to her. The thought that I had failed her yet again created a visceral reaction out of me. My heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest at even the thought about what I was going to do next, but I would’ve done far worse if I hadn't gone through with it. Within a flurry of movement, hopping the barrier, pushing aside the guards blocking the entry, I knew there was no going back. I couldnt bare the thought of returning to that empty apartment, without resolve, and without her. Please God, don't let me fuck this up.

I hectically began running through partygoers, pushing and shoving my way to get further in and to get away from the bouncers, who quickly followed in hot pursuit. Running with no sense of direction, I eventually hit a metal railing overlooking the lower sections of the stage on a dance floor. I looked around the sides to find a way around the metal railing to reach the lower floors to search for her, until I was abruptly interrupted by an arm wrapping around my neck in a chokehold in an attempt to subdue me. Kicking and trying to free myself from their grasp, I jerked left and right in hopes of loosening their grip, which was retaliated by a stronger hold around my neck, the pressure so tight that my vision began to get blurrier and blurrier. In a last-ditch effort to break their grip, I rested both legs onto the metal railing in front of me and quickly, in a jumping motion, slammed the back of my head into the bouncer's face, causing him to stagger and loosen enough of his grip for me to make my escape.

My mind was still recuperating from the bouncer's chokehold, nearly causing me to pass out. My arms flailed spasmodically, trying to get a hold of something for support, so I didn't collapse. Stumbling while finding the metal railing once again, I looked back down onto the stage. Mind racing and adrenaline fully kicking in, I began to think more recklessly, more so than I already have. I hopped the metal railing and onto the main dance floor.

Although not the grace I was hoping for, and the cold concrete floor surely didn't make things better, I landed on my knees, the concrete foundation tattering out the knees of my denim jeans. My legs felt like jelly due to the impact of my fall, causing me to stumble on my attempts to get back on my feet and continue my search.

"Hey!" Another guard shouted from behind me as he quickly walked towards me.

I ran into the crowd of people on the dance floor to hide within the sea of bodies. The pounding of my heart matched that of the herd of manic dancers that swayed their bodies without a care in the world to the beat of the band's music; it’s as if I were a singular blood cell experiencing the inner machinations of my adrenaline-filled heart. All of my senses were blaring as the body heat from the crowd further induced my slowly draining stamina, causing me to blank out a couple of times, only moving when the crowd pushes me along as I stumble awkwardly trying to stand up. Still in panic, trying to find a way out of this sweaty hell, a hand grabbed onto my wrist with such urgency that its grip and their nails were sharp enough to break skin. Startled, I quickly turned to face its direction; it was her. She pulled me off to the side of the stage to confront me.

“Where the hell were you?” she said in a stern, stoic voice; the last words of her inquiry were said almost shakily. A part of her was hurt that she even had to ask that question.

Weakingly and still out of breath from the ordeals on my way down to the dance floor, I apologized to her, trying to get out an appropriate excuse but failing in all of it. I knew she could see through me, and her glare of anger and worry alone nearly caused me to abandon all chances to think I could’ve changed the outcome of the situation.

“I can't stay here; I ruined it all, and they’re going to throw me out,” I said, barely getting the words out comprehensively.

“Who's gonna throw you out?” She responded before she was met with the reason why.

The bouncer, grasping a now bloodied, came walking down from the stairs looking towards my direction with a malicious look while signaling nearby security of my presence.

She looked back at me, now realizing what I meant. She looked even more furious and impatient than before.  “Are you kidding me?”

Without a second of reprieve, she had already made a plan to escape my pursuers. She pointed out a nearby fire exit behind me.

"Come on! We can go out the fire exit.” She shouted, but it completely fell on deaf ears.

            “Wait, we can't just leave yet, we haven't finished-” I said before I was cut off by her pushing me forward towards the exit.”

"Come on, they’re obviously going to kill you if we stay.”

For a second, I was looking at the red doors dimly lit by an exit sign and felt that any chance of redeeming this already botched night was all in vain. And after another second, I found myself lying on the concrete floor.

“Wuh-” I said, confused, as an immense pressure appeared on my upper back.

“Stay Down!” A man yelled, applying more weight to prevent me from escaping.

The bouncer had already reached me, and within a flash, it seemed that they had knocked me to the ground before I could even register the dire position I was in. I looked up to see her arguing with the security, trying to plead for my release. She was wearing a black denim overalls dress, the one she so enthusiastically wanted to wear back in our senior year of prom all those years ago, before we broke up.

The sight of it creates a wave of nostalgia that, for a split moment within the state I put myself through, felt like everything was going to be okay, before slowly vanishing as the pressure behind my back got stronger.

Submitting to my failures, as even something as simple as just being at a concert for someone and still managing to mess it up, I closed my eyes, hoping that something, anything, would put me out of my misery.

            A loud thud noise came from behind me, and the pressure was alleviated from my shoulders. I looked around to see what had happened and saw the same bouncer that's been pursuing me sprawled out on the floor and a very pissed-off girl in front of me stepping back as she recovered from kicking something.

"Come on, let's go!” She yelled, grabbing my arm to pull me up and making a sprint towards another way to escape. She stopped to look for another exit. A few guards and some onlookers were already alerted about what had transpired, blocking all the exits. She focused instead on the nearby ladies’ bathrooms.

“There, I think I saw a window in one of the stalls!” She yells to me, quickly grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the bathrooms. As we were running, my senses returned as my legs began to move at a steady pace again, and the sounds of those songs we used to bond over were played out on loud amps, accompanied by the roars of the adoring fans.

We entered the bathroom, quickly locking the door behind us and entering the largest stall, farthest away from the door. The stall was grungy, with years of graffiti accumulating on the stall’s partition like moss on an old brick wall and floors that were gently littered with cigarette butts and ash, in which I lay weakly trying to compose myself. The only thing untouched within that unkempt stall was a small window situated in the top corner of the bathroom; a nearby lamppost glared into the window, being the only light in this dimly lit stall, as if beckoning us for our escape.

“There, we can go through there!” She said urgently, already climbing up to the top of the toilet under the window.

Her voice echoed into my consciousness as my senses finally came back to me to realize what was going on.

“Dammit, it’s a tight fit, but it’ll have to do.”

She begins to repeatedly strike at the window with her elbow in an attempt to break through, but to no avail. Realizing her plan, I decided that the only way to get out of here was through sheer brute force. With all my strength, I pried the nearby toilet’s tank lid with so much force that the toilet’s foundation began to detach from its concrete base, causing water to quickly spurt out along the bathroom floor, drenching my ankles. I gave her the lid to act as a battering ram, and with a quick motion, she banged the lid on the window's glass, causing shards of broken glass to fall onto my face, leaving cuts and bruises, but none of that mattered. I needed her to escape from this mess we got ourselves in. Her hand grabbed my shoulders once more, this time to get my attention toward the now shattered open window. I steadily held her up above my shoulders to allow her to escape through the small opening, in which she was just slim enough to crawl through with no issue and land on a nearby trash can.

“Alright, let's go!” She held out her hand to me as I awkwardly tried to pull myself up, but the loud bang of the bathroom doors being flung open nearly startled us, causing me to stumble.

“Hey!” The two bouncers from earlier shouted and began to hastily make their way towards us.

Now at eye level with the opening, I try to rest my arm on the window’s ledge to give myself leverage, but am quickly reminded of the serrated glass shards that surround the broken window like pointy stalagmites in a cave’s mouth, which stab into my forearm, causing a tear in my arm’s flesh. I winced back in pain and hesitated, trying to find a way to fit through without getting caught in the serrated shards.

“Come on!” She yells, still tugging on my arm.

I felt that sharp pain in the back of my skull again, and in a second's flash of hesitation, time had stopped for me. The adrenaline from escaping those bouncers, the flashing strobe lights of the club peering through the door, the band that we used to listen to still blaring its music all across the venue, and my arm now gushing with blood—all of it felt like sensory overload. I began to slowly reevaluate my life’s choices that had led me into this situation, and if what I was doing was a good idea, that feeling in my gut returned, and regret began to set in. It was as if I was stuck in a bubble within my own thoughts that existed in slowed time. A place I once considered my haven that shielded me away from reality, a place of loathing where everything outside was trivial and nothing else mattered.

Apathy was still setting in as a self-defense mechanism to shield me from the world. I felt something tugging at me. A second hand began pulling on my shoulder with even more force than that on my bloodied wrist. I looked up to be greeted by her still holding on to me and peering at me with her eyes. Those amber eyes that used to be locked on to me all those years ago, when life was simple and full of teenage angst, have finally found me after all this time, but now filled with such desperation and worry that you’d think the world around her was falling apart. Her eyes finally meeting mine felt like a shock of energy quickly circulating through my nerves, firing up my neurons, enough so to pull me out of my bubble, relieving me of my closed-off state. I searched within her amber pupils and ruined mascara once more to find any amount of solace within our dire situation. And in that moment, looking at her, it was obvious. She was all that mattered.

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Author Bio:

Inspired by numerous works of media relating to the idea of existential dilemmas relating to the human condition, and its unseen effects on why we do the things we do. As much as we hoped to believe that the human condition can just have a simple variable, we can see and point a finger to better understand ourselves and other people. More often than not, thereise just so much nuance in how we think as people that the reasoning for why we do things isn't something that can be seen through black and white lenses. As an author, Kyle has made it his calling to better showcase the way we can identify our subconscious mind, which has no rhyme or reason. Not through lectures and hamfisted psychology terms, but rather common everyday dilemmas and scenarios that call out our flaws in our mentality, forcing us to acknowledge the things we, even ourselves, cannot explain.