The Story of Griffin Hawkins

Chapter Thirty-Six

Trigger warning.

This chapter outlines death due to suicide.

Please take care.

If you or someone you know have thoughts of suicide, please contact your local helpline.

You are loved.

xoxo

2021 Copyright All Rights Reserved

Unedited, first draft

Chapter Thirty-Six

Week Eleven

Wednesday

I could not get a hold of Griffin. By Wednesday afternoon, I think I was in a full blown panic. I quickly finished my shift at the restaurant and drove as fast as possible to get to Griffin's house. I had been a wreck all day.

He was home. There was movement in the house as a shade was pulled down from his window.

I called incessantly and banged on the front door.

"Griffin!" I shouted as I continued to call. "Answer the fucking phone!"

He finally answered, but didn't say a word.

"Hello? Griffin? What the hell is going on? What is with you?" I took a breath. "You're freaking me out, did you cut yourself again?" I was worried. I worried a lot. I didn't want to see him self-harm again.

"You should go." His voice was unnervingly quiet.

"Griffin. Open the door, now."

He hung up.

"I will call the police!" I shouted and banged on the door again. "I will have them break down the door and do a welfare check! I will call your parents! I will call Ansem!" Anything. Anything to make him open the door.

The door swung open and Griffin had dark circles under his eyes. He clearly had not slept. "Look!" He shouted in anger. "I am fine!" He pulled up his sleeves to show me that he had no fresh wounds. "See?"

"Okay fine!" I shouted back. "Then, what's going on?"

"I'm having a bad day." His tone was rude.

"Talk to me." I pleaded.

He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. He licked his lips and his behavior altered. He grabbed my face and kissed me. "I am okay. I am having a shitty day. I didn't sleep. I just want to be alone and get some rest." He kissed me gently. "Okay?"

His pools of deep brown begged me to understand. We all have those days where things go South. Where we want to curl up into the fetal position, under a pile of blankets and be. No thinking, no talking. Maybe some sleep, but laying there. Doing nothing.

"Do you promise me you're okay?" My voice cracked.

He gave me a sad smile, "Yes, baby. I promise I am okay."

He hugged me then. This hug felt different somehow, but I couldn't pinpoint why. His grip was tight and he held me as if he could never let me go. "I love you." He kissed my forehead. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?"