Adventures in an alternate dimension Book 2

Chapter 38 - Secrets Behind Closed Doors

**Trigger Warning: Mental Health Struggle**

Ashlynn's POV

The late afternoon light slanted through the living room window, casting long shadows across the mismatched throw pillows our ever-expanding family seemed to require. Jackson, pale and thinner than I remembered, sat on the edge of the plush sectional, a stark contrast to the vibrant chaos swirling around him. The twins, Jade and Ava, shrieked with laughter as Emmett chased them with a stuffed giraffe, their chubby legs pumping like pistons. Skylar sat amidst the whirlwind, a portrait of serene patience as he bounced one of the triplets, Haven, on his knee. Leila, the other triplet, snoozed peacefully in Jacob's arms, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Thor, my ever-reliable anchor, perched beside me on the couch. He squeezed my hand, his silent support a balm to the storm of emotions churning inside me. It had been three days since Jackson had returned home from the psych ward, the suffocating weight of his suicide attempt a constant presence in the air. We hadn't spoken much, the unspoken words hanging heavy between us. Today, I finally felt strong enough to try.

"Jackson," I began, my voice thick with unshed tears. He flinched slightly, his gaze darting away from mine. "Can we talk?"

He nodded curtly, his jaw clenched. I scooted closer, the plush fabric of the couch whispering beneath us. "About the hospital," I ventured, my voice barely above a whisper.

Jackson finally met my eyes, his once bright blue irises dull with a despair I recognized all too well. It was the same despair that had threatened to consume me after our parents' car accident five years ago. "There's not much to say," he said, his voice raspy from disuse.

"There has to be something," I countered gently. "We're worried, Jack. All of us." I gestured towards the whirlwind of activity around us.

He scoffed, a humorless sound. "Look at this," he rasped, his gaze sweeping over the room. "This beautiful chaos. How could anyone feel like this isn't enough?"

My heart ached for him. The joy that surrounded him was the very thing he couldn't seem to grasp. "It's not about not having enough, Jackson," I said softly. "It's about the darkness that creeps in, that makes you feel like this... this mess isn't worth it."

He closed his eyes, a single tear tracing a glistening path down his cheek. "Exactly," he whispered. "How do you fight that, Ash? How do you push it back when it feels like it's all you have left?"

I reached out, hesitantly placing a hand on his arm. The warmth of my touch seemed to surprise him. "You don't fight it alone," I said firmly. "You let us help. You let us love you back to the light."

He turned his head, his gaze searching mine. In that moment, I saw a flicker of the old Jackson, the brother who used to chase away my nightmares with goofy jokes and bad impressions. "I don't deserve your help," he mumbled, shame lacing his voice.

"Don't be ridiculous," I retorted, my voice stronger now. "You're my brother. Blood runs thicker than whatever darkness you're battling, Jack. We're in this together, all of us." I glanced around the room, each of our husbands and children catching my eye, a silent chorus of support.

A ghost of a smile touched Jackson's lips. "This is... a lot," he said, gesturing at the overflowing room.

"It's our crazy, beautiful family," I said, squeezing his arm.

"And you're a part of it, whether you like it or not." I knew it wouldn't be easy. The road to recovery was long and arduous, but for the first time in a long time, I felt a flicker of hope. We would get through this, together. Because that's what families do.

The following days were a delicate dance. Jackson, ever the introvert, retreated to the guest room whenever the chaos became overwhelming. The constant coos of the triplets and the boundless energy of the twins were a stark contrast to the quiet solitude he craved. Yet, there were small moments of connection that sparked a fragile hope in my chest.

One evening, as Skylar wrestled playfully with the twins, collapsing in a heap of giggles with them, Jackson emerged from his room. He hesitated in the doorway, watching the scene with a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Looks like you've got your hands full," he remarked, his voice dry.

Skylar glanced up, his grin widening. "They're a handful alright, but the best kind of handful." He patted the space beside him on the floor. "Come join the fun, Uncle Jackson."

Jackson hesitated for a beat, then slowly lowered himself onto the floor. The twins squealed with delight, clambering over him like furry, giggling explorers. He winced slightly as Jade poked him in the eye with a stuffed unicorn, but a genuine smile bloomed on his face.

"Alright, alright," he chuckled, fending them off playfully. "Easy there, little tornadoes."

The sound of his laughter, genuine and unstrained, sent a wave of relief washing over me. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

Later that week, while I was folding laundry in the living room, Jackson drifted in. He perched on the edge of the armchair, his gaze fixed on the overflowing laundry basket.

"You guys ever get overwhelmed?" he asked hesitantly.

"Every single day," I replied with a wry smile. "But somehow, we manage." I gestured towards the basket. "This may look like chaos, but it's our chaos."

He picked up a tiny sock, its bright yellow color a stark contrast against his pale hand. "It's... a lot to take in," he admitted. "The noise, the mess, the constant need..."

"The constant love," I finished for him, meeting his gaze. "It's not always easy, but the love... that makes it all worthwhile."

He looked at me, a question flickering in his eyes. "Do you ever... regret it? All of this?"

"Regret this beautiful mess?" I shook my head, a smile gracing my lips. "Never. It's messy, it's loud, it's utterly chaotic, but it's ours. And you, Jackson, are a part of it."

He didn't say anything for a long moment, then let out a soft sigh. "I just... don't know how to fit in anymore," he confessed, his voice barely a whisper.

"You don't have to fit in," I said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Just be here. Let us love you back to the light, one messy, chaotic day at a time."

He leaned into my touch, a flicker of hope rekindled in his eyes. We sat there in comfortable silence for a while, the sounds of our family's laughter a comforting melody in the background. The road to recovery would be long, but for the first time, Jackson didn't have to walk it alone. He was home, surrounded by the love of a family, messy and loud, but a family nonetheless. And in that love, perhaps, he could find the strength to heal.

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See you in the next chapter!!!