No Turning Back (Rewrite)

Chapter 30

In the morning, I regretted my decision to go back to school. My muscles were still weak from the sleeping pills, and my head was throbbing. My stomach ached from the bad decision to skip dinner. I was in no condition to go to school. If I'd still been at home, my mom would've let me skip. My mom might've noticed the absence of my blasting morning playlist or the empty seat at the table. She might've popped her head in the doorway and asked if I was alright.

She might have sat down next to me on the bed and checked my temperature with the back of her hand. If she didn't feel a fever, she might ask about my stomach.

"Does it hurt? Do you feel nauseous?" She'd ask, warm drops of honey replacing the usual razors in her voice.

Depending on my answer, she'd frown and rub my temple. She'd give me permission to stay home. To rest and take the time I needed to feel better.

"Just remember to talk to your teachers tomorrow about the work you'll miss," she'd insist before exiting the room. "You don't want to mess up your perfect GPA."

Our little illness encounters hadn't occurred in years. The last time she'd sincerely come in to check on me was during the first quarter of sophomore year. The morning after they'd brought me home from the hospital. The night before, they gave me some heavy pain medicine to help with the pain on my wrists. If my father had his way, he would've shoved some antidepressants down my throat too.

I remember she sat down on my bed and rubbed my shoulder. "Are you able to go to school?" She asked in a quiet tone - one I'd never heard before.

"No," I mumbled into my pillow.

"But you've already missed so many assignments."

"I don't care," I'd snapped. "Leave me alone."

"But, Daniel -"

"I don't care about my fucking GPA right now!" I yanked the pillow from underneath me and held it over my head. "Just go away!"

My mother remained on my bed for a few moments, unsure of what to say next.

A part of me was waiting for her to express regret about sending me away to conversion camp. To hold me close and apologize for all the damage it's caused. To tell me she loved me and she accepted me - for both my talents and flaws.

But she didn't.

Instead of giving me the consolation I needed, she stood up and walked out the door. Afterwards, she didn't bother coming in to check on me anymore.

Reluctantly, I dragged myself out of bed and dressed for school. Tying the wool noose around my neck, I lifted my mask up to my face. In the mirror, the effects of the blows it'd taken over the past few years were evident. The charismatic color in the cheeks were faded, cracks rippled through the smile, and dirt wore over the confidence facade. Wearing the mask looked worse than leaving it off. At least in its absence, I could own my exhaustion.

Sighing, I dropped the fake persona. I allowed the person hiding underneath to show his face.

He looked worse off than the mask, with a clear frown and weariness clouding over his eyes. But the weight on his chest was almost non-existent. There were no expectations to live up to, no guidelines to follow, no charisma to energize. He was simply existing, aiming to skate through the day and return home to bed.

Maybe one day he'd have more of a purpose. But, not today.

As expected, I was met with furtive stares and sneaky whispers from my peers in school. Their words spread around my head like wildfire.

Daniel Crawford is back in school.

This is the first time he's ever been suspended.