Selfie Inflicted

6

I gazed at my phone, scrolling through my posts and pics and timelines. So many photos, so many memories. In so many of them, there was Ryan.

He was such a good friend, we had so much fun together. Hell, everyone was always amazed when we said we weren't together. It wasn't crazy, he was an amazing guy. If he'd made a move on me I probably would have hooked up with him.

And maybe today, had he made it to my place.

Now. Now he's dead.

Tears welled in my eyes. Not even twenty four hours earlier we had been together, laughing and having fun at the bar.

"Come on!" Connor had yelled and he started running down the street.

I chased along. We came to the old bridge and there was a growing crowd milling around. There were some cops trying to push people back and block off the road but I ran through their tape. One grabbed at me, yelling to get back but I swore at him and screamed that he was my friend and I ran to the railing.

I slipped on the wet road and crashed into the railing, just about falling myself.

"Goddam it!" yelled the cop, coming to grab at me. I felt his arms reaching for my shoulders, to drag me back to safety.

I wanted to fall. Wanted to disappear.

At the bottom I could see Ryan. He was half in the water, his body twisted and mangled. Legs pointing the wrong way and his head twisted around. Blood spilled red in the rushing water. I began heaving and crying.

As the cop guided me away I noticed a small plastic bag, half torn and spilled out onto the road. I saw bread rolls and a lettuce and some tomatoes. It was the lunch he'd bought to bring round.

Then Lyza had been there. She was crying too and together we staggered back through the crowd. The cops pulled us up and asked a few questions - where we had last seen him, what he was doing. I said he was going to get us lunch. They said they might have more questions for us later but let us go.

We'd wandered back to my place as the cop cars moved on. Later we heard a helicopter drift in, its blades rumbling and cutting the cold air. We got back to my apartment and slumped onto the couches. Lyza checked my cupboards and found a bottle of wine and we broke it open and started drinking.

"How could this happen?" I asked.

Lyza just shook her head. Her eyes, red and puffy stared at the table.

"He was on his way here. He was coming for lunch," I said, feeling like this was my fault.

Our phones were buzzing and beeping. People were posting comments and calling. I knew I needed to call Ryan's mom, I had to speak to her. But I just couldn't imagine that conversation, didn't know how I could bring it up. No doubt the cops would call her. I'd have to do it later.

"Lyza," I said.

She sipped at her wine and looked at me.

"Lyza, there's something... the. The phone."

"That one we found?" she said, paling with each word.

"He's gone. In the photo. He's not in it anymore."

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the phone. Its metal felt ice cold to the touch and the screen slick and wet. I opened it and showed her.

"This is messed up," she said, placing the phone on the table. "Someone must be doing something, playing with us. This must all be some sick joke. He must have set it up, got the phone, made us do this and then pushed Ryan. We have to tell the cops."

"Come on Lyza, that can't be right. How could anyone do that? The phone's been with you or me the whole time. And it's not even connected."

"Well, what else could it be?"

I shook my head. I didn't know.

I reached for my laptop and turned it on.