Before I Break (22 page)

Who said I even wanted help? There was no hope for me, no future, no nothing. All I wanted was to stay locked up in a room so I could have my time to mourn. When I didn’t respond to his statement, he sighed.

“Cyril, you need to understand that sometimes things don’t work out the way we want them to. Sometimes we lose a loved one, but that doesn’t mean we should let it overcome us. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

I remained still, unmoving.

“This trauma is something that someone your age, or any age for that matter, shouldn’t have to face alone. We’re here for you if you need us, and the staff will be readily available for you any time you want to open up to us and tell us exactly what happened.”

After he left, I sat on the chair near the corner and hoped to avoid humanity forever. There was no point in even trying.

Flashing back to that night, all I could remember was the look on Avery’s face right before Jake pulled the trigger. So scared, so fragile, and but so perfect in life. He had his whole future ahead of him and it was ripped in the midst of an angry, jealous rage. Jake, my old best friend, had lost whatever little bit of his humanity he had left. All the signs were there, all of the hatred for Avery, all of the remarks, his dislike for him. Yet not a single person noticed until it was too late.

As of right now, they had me on suicide watch, so last night I had to sleep with my mattress in the middle of my doorway where they could keep a close eye on me. I also couldn’t change my clothes without being watched, or take a shower without someone standing outside the doorway. My life had gone from perfect to hell in six whole months.

During my time in the ICU, I hadn’t seen Tina, but I was sure I heard her crying at some point during the hospital visit. Learning that her son died in the ambulance had to be hard, especially since she never got the chance to say goodbye. But what were goodbyes for anyway? Was it for the dead or for the living?

All of this philosophical thinking was going to start getting to me if I didn’t use my time wisely. I got up and walked over to the paper rack and grabbed a couple of sheets, unsure of what I was going to do right then. I motioned to one of the nurses for a pencil and she nodded, handing me one of the small, no eraser pencils we had to use. As I sat at a nearby table, I stared at the sheet for what felt like hours. No words, no creativity, no story came to mind, and my heart ached with every thought of writing.

Avery’s book,
Falling Stars
, was scheduled for release, and unfortunately I had no idea whether it was going to still be published or not. I realized that I owed it to him, and to myself, to show some sort of respect. Right then, I knew exactly what I wanted to do.

My story begins on my first day of school at East Hill High School in South Carolina,
I wrote on the sheet of paper.
My junior year had just begun and I was super excited to almost be done with high school. When I look back on it now, I realize how unimportant the “important” things were and how important the “unimportant” things were. When you’re young, your mind is fogged with a sense of adolescence, and you believe that the world revolves around you.

“Cyril?”

The voice came out from behind me, and standing there was Melissa. She held her hand over her mouth, tears pouring down her face as she cried. “I-I can’t believe you’re okay. I didn’t know if…” Her words trailed off and I think we both knew what she meant.

I pulled out the chair beside me and motioned for her to take a seat. She did as I requested, and there was no need for words between us. I knew her feelings like that back of my hand and she knew mine. After spending all the time together, I’m sure it makes sense that she could read my emotions as easily as an open book. For others, while I was an open book, they were more like dyslexics who just couldn’t understand—like the doctors here with their dumb questions like, “Are you okay?” and “Are you feeling depressed?” Dumb questions and I never went well together.

“What are you writing?” Melissa asked suddenly, glancing at the sheet of paper. Her eyes watered again as she read the words. “Cyril…you can’t do this to yourself.”

What did she know? She didn’t have to watch Avery die. She managed to get away before she had to see it all. She wasn’t the one lying dead in a morgue or with a bullet in her leg. No, Melissa was doing just fine in the outside world. Ignoring her statement, I continued writing.

That was my philosophy that year, which it was all about me.

“So, there’s something I need to tell you.”

I didn’t meet her eyes, hoping to tune out anything she had to say.

“Jake has been at school.”

My eyes widened and when I looked at her, I knew she wasn’t kidding.

“He threatened me,” she whispered, leaning into me. “He told me if I told the police that he was the one who killed Avery, he would hurt me. So, I didn’t tell the cops anything.”

For the first time in a week and a half, I said, “When was this?”

Her eyes widened like mine, at the shock that I spoke, and said, “That night. When he ran off, he caught up to me and told me if I told them what happened, he’d find a way to hurt me. I couldn’t let that happen, Cyril. We need to do something.”

Right then, I couldn’t feel my heart beat. My blood boiled down to my core and that was when I snapped. I got up and threw the chair back against the wall behind me. The nurses noticed almost immediately, and I screamed, “I’m going to kill that bastard!” I crumbled the paper on the desk and threw it across the room, and when the nurses came over to contain me, I dropped to my knees, feeling the pain wash over me. So much sadness, so much anger, and so much disappointment was filling my soul, and I was sure any person could tell me my soul was going dark without needing to see it. The tears washed over me as well, and a female nurse, Emily, helped me up and led me down the hall to the chill room.

Right then I knew I needed more than just some chilling. I really needed to be left alone, and that was exactly what I got. Now that I had broken my silence, I needed to figure out how I was going to stop Jake. He was
not
going to get away with this.

An hour later, Emily came back to check on me. She was what most guys would call pretty, except I didn’t notice it at the time. She had dark hair, with bright green eyes and olive-toned skin. She looked like she had just graduated from med school, if I had to guess.

“Are you okay?”

Even though it was a dumb question, I said, “No.” And even though I was talking, that didn’t mean I needed to give long answers.

“Are you ready to come back out? We're having group in about twenty minutes.”

I nodded and followed her back out into the main sitting area where all of the others were gathered around. I took a seat near Austin but didn’t say a word. A second later, Emily came up to me and handed me folded up piece of paper. When I unfolded it, I realized it was from the memoir I started writing. On the back, she wrote, “Thought you might need this.” Folding it back up and putting it in my pocket, I knew I’d need to get back to work on that. Not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually.

As if life really couldn’t have gotten worse, I was in for a really big surprise the next day when my parents came to visit. Yes, both parents. At the same time. According to them, they were holding off the divorce until I “felt better” and recovered from this. But was there really any recovering from what I’d dealt with?

When they showed up, Dr. Charles specifically told them not to tell me anything that may upset me, but as usual, my dad overlooked that statement.

We were sitting at a table near the desk so that they could observe me and make sure if I freaked out again they could contain the situation a little quicker. I had yet to speak to Dr. Charles, but planned to after this visit with my parents. Mom looked like a complete mess and held my hand, trying her best to comfort me. Dad sat across from me, looking like he really didn’t care about my wellbeing.

“How are you?” he asked.

I shrugged him off. “Fantastic. Besides watching my friend get killed, getting shot in the leg, spending a week in ICU, and now residing in a Psych Ward, what could be wrong?” I really hoped that he could taste the sarcasm rolling off of my tongue. It was the likes of him that got Avery murdered in the first place. I had no doubt that what happened would be considered a hate crime in the court of law.

He frowned at me and said, “No need for the sarcasm, son. We’re just trying to help.”

“Yeah, right,” I replied sharply. “Why don’t you just go take Jake’s case and help him out instead of your own son?”

Silence overwhelmed us, and as soon as I said it, I remembered that no one knew other than Melissa and me. Suddenly feeling scared, I remained quiet.

“It was Jake?” my mom asked, sounding astonished. “Why haven’t you said anything?”

“Because it’s not true,” my dad added angrily. “That can’t be true.”

His denial made me ill-tempered to the point of snapping again. “Really? And why can’t it be true, dad?” I nearly spat the word. “You think I’m making it up?”

“Melissa said you guys didn’t see his face.”

“She’s terrified!” I yelled. “How could she not be? She has been afraid to say anything because he threatened her, you dumbass.”

My mom’s jaw practically fell to the floor. “You take that back! Your father may not share our beliefs now, but that doesn’t mean you can speak to him that way. If what you say is true, you need to report him to someone here.”

The last thing I wanted to do was recall what happened that night. Ignoring that, I said, “I think our visiting hours are up. I need to meet with Dr. Charles.” Before they could say another word, I walked away, knowing they weren’t allowed to follow me. And that felt good.

“Is what you’re saying true?”

That was the first thing Dr. Charles asked me when I told him about Jake. Although I didn’t want to, I felt like Avery needed justice and I couldn’t just sit here leaving that bastard walking free. I nodded softly, hoping he wouldn’t make me speak anymore.

“What happened?”

I shook my head and he seemed to get that I wasn’t ready to talk about it yet. Knowing they’d want to hear my side of the story in court didn’t make it any better.

“So let’s talk about you.” Dr. Charles seemed serious and I was not in an argumentative mood, so I just let him speak. “How do you feel now that you’ve been here for a couple of days?”

“Like shit,” I replied honestly.

“Have you been having any suicidal thoughts?”

I shrugged nonchalantly, not really wanting to lie. “A few, I guess.” The truth was, death really did sound pretty good right about now, not that anyone could blame me. All I could see every second was Avery’s face, everywhere I looked, especially in that Austin kid. The more I looked at him and heard him talk, the more he reminded me of him. This probably explained why I avoided him like one would avoid the black plague.

“Well, since you’ve been here, we have diagnosed you with depression, but not chronic, because we believe it stemmed from the accident. We’ve also diagnosed you with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.” There goes that word. “With some medication and some therapy, we are sure that you can recover and live a happy life again.”