The Old Man

I still wake up in fright. Jump when I see a drop of blood. Scream when I see something move in the dark. It has only been a year ever since that day, and yet, every day after I still have nightmares. Why couldn’t I just have followed him? Why did I not chase after him? Stop him? I could have saved him.

It all started a year ago. I was walking through the busy streets of London and I accidentally bumped into an older man. He dropped his books that he was holding, and feeling bad, I went down on the ground to collect the old man’s books while yelling out “SORRY!”

He was looking here and there and would not look me in my eyes. I thought that he was blind and felt really bad.

“Is there anything else I can do sir?” I said.

“No. I-I need to get to the station,” he said in a rusty voice.

“Yes it’s right across the street and around the corner. I can walk you there if you want.”

“The street?” He look a bit confused. “Is there lots of traffic?”

“Umm. Yes but I can help you cross.” I pulled on his arm to direct him towards to crosswalk.

“There might be another way. Another way. Must end. It all must end,” the old man rambled on.

I was feel quite scared now. “Come now. Come here. Away from the traffic. Do you need me to call the police?” I looked around for someone to help me.

“No, no I’ll be best on my way. Here darling.” He handed me the books he was holding. “I’ll find my way. My way out.” He started walking away.

I stared at him with shock. “Wait, sir, your books!” I yelled. I tripped on cement and fell tumbling down. The books flew out of my hand. Hurriedly I got up and started collecting the books. I stopped. Something didn’t seem right. I looked down at one of the book titles. The Great Escape: A Way Out. The title didn’t make sense. I looked at another one. How to Prevent Suicidal Thoughts. Now I was really worried. I looked up and tried to find him. I saw him approaching the busy intersection.

“Wait! Stop! You don’t have to do it. Somebody help! He’s blind.” I gestured towards the man who was now walking on the street. Cars swerved to avoid him and for a moment I thought it would be alright. He was almost to the end. Smash. Nobody saw it coming. His body flew, all his limbs twisted, and landed with a splat. Blood oozed out of his dead body. The bus, unable to stop, went over him. Every crack, smash, and pop could be heard as the bus crushed his body. He was dead. It was all my fault. If I could...stop. You couldn’t do anything.

It’s been a year since that incident and I still have nightmares. Turns out his wife and child died in the car accident where he lost his eyesight. He couldn’t take it anymore. It’s kinda weird because he looked perfectly fine when on the street. Well, I guess, nothing is what it seems.