Tears Thick Enough To Stain

Four

“I was on my way to his house to tell him something important. His parents’ car wasn’t in the drive, and I knocked on the door but he didn’t answer. Of course, I let myself in using the key under the mat.” Matt couldn’t comprehend why he was telling all this to some stranger. He shouldn’t. But the counsellor had assured him of some confidentiality agreement that meant she wouldn’t say a word unless there were hints of extreme danger to himself or others around him. Matt understood; this made perfect sense. And that had given him a tiny confidence boost that allowed him to explain what had happened.

“When I got to his room, I was surprised. He’d... he’d cleaned. But not just ‘shoving clothes under the bed’ cleaned, like, he’d taken all his posters down and painted the walls white and taken the sheets off the bed and there was literally his wardrobe, desk, chair and bed in that room. There were these boxes...” Matt took a sharp intake of breath. “And then there was him in the corner, face to the floor. Just like that.”

“Was there any clues as to how he’d died?”

“An empty bottle of pills, I think they were sleeping pills. He had insomnia, you see. He kept sleeping pills for emergencies.”

She nodded, brushing her hair behind her ear. “Was there anything else?”

“There were a lot of finished cigarettes. But he had opened the window, and he stunk of that stupid cologne he used to douse himself in, just to keep his parents unaware.”