OUT

Chapter 54

Wednesday, May 13th 2015

'Only if you're comfortable.'

'I am,' Jack said. He was sitting opposite his therapist with the envelope in his hand. The envelope. They had been working up to this moment for a few weeks now, and it felt like time. He hadn't read back over it since he had written it and left it on his bedroom desk in Dublin. It had been addressed to nobody, and nobody had read it.

'Are you sure?'

He nodded and tore the envelope open at the side, and pulled the piece of paper free. His hands were shaking. He didn't plan on reading it aloud. He knew he couldn't. That would break him. That would be too much. He just needed to read it with his eyes.

To whoever finds this, and finds me, Millie or Ciarán probably, I'm so sorry.

I'm so SO sorry. You don't know how sorry I am. And please don't think of
me any differently. You couldn't have done anything to stop this. Nobody

could have. I have felt so alone for most of my life, and that was when I was
pretending to be someone else. Now people have reason to hate me, and I know I'll
never be good enough. Mark, I care about you so much. You're my best friend, and I
love you. Please promise me that you'll try and forgive me. I really am sorry.
I just can't do this anymore.

Jack

He stared down at the note. He didn't believe the words. He wasn't sure if he did when he wrote them either. He didn't want to die, he wanted help. He wanted to be told things would be alright. He wanted love and acceptance. And maybe he had found that in his chosen family and his friends.

'Here,' he said, handing the letter to his therapist.

'It's not for me to read, Jack.' There was an empty metal waste paper bin on the ground between the two of them. 'A little unorthodox,' she began, handing him a lighter and standing up to open the window to Jack's right, 'but it could be cathartic.'

'OK,' he said, taking the lighter from her and striking it to life, holding the flame under the bottom corner of the page. It kissed the edge for a moment before dancing across onto the paper and moving upwards - slowly at first, then all at once - engulfing the bottom half of the page in a few seconds.

Jack held onto the note until the last possible second as he watched the flames rise, just as the heat of the fire tickled his fingers, and then he dropped it into the bin between the two of them. He stared down at it as it burned. A few moments later, it was a tiny mound of black ashes with a few amber embers glistening. Long but slender plumes of grey smoke danced upwards towards him, and he watched hypnotically until the woman opposite him lifted the bin and placed it onto the windowsill beside them.

'How do you feel?'

'I feel better,' he said, 'honestly, that was weirdly freeing.'

'Good.'

'Thank you. Really.'