I Let Go

If I had helped, he wouldn't have fell. It was Saturday. Me and Josh were playing football in my garden.

"Missed!" I shouted.

"Hey man, go easy on me, I'm not as good as you," Josh shouted back.

He kicked again. I saved it.

"How about you go in goal?" I ask Josh.

"Sure. I mean, I can't be that bad,"

We swap places and I kick the ball. I still remember watching it soar above Josh's head and landing on the roof of my house.

"Sorry," I said.

"It's fine, I think I can get it. You have a ladder or something?" asked Josh.

I nod and run into the shed, pulling out an unstable ladder and handing it to Josh. I remember watching him climb up, carefully taking each step, as he drew nearer to the football. I held the ladder for him.

"Should I get my dad?" I yell at Josh.

"It's fine Mark. I've got this," he yelled back.

The ladder felt shaky in my hands, my heart pounding furiously as I gripped onto it with white knuckles. Josh looked down at me. He was almost there.

"It's a long way down," he shouted.

"Josh, are you sure I shouldn't get help?" I asked.

"Stop being so scared. I'll be fine," he insisted.

He reached for the ball. I looked up. He had gotten it. I heaved a sigh of relief. That was when I messed up. I let go of the ladder and stepped aside, thinking he had already gotten down. The ladder creaked and came crashing down beside me. Josh was trapped under the ladder, blood running down the side of his face. He wasn't moving. My dad had heard the noise.

"Mark, what happen-," he pause, face in shock, and he ran back inside to call an ambulance.

That was 3 days ago. Josh made it through luckily. I blamed myself for putting him in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. He didn't blame me though. We're still friends. I thought it was broken, but Josh had put a bandage around it.