Dead Poets and Dying Roses

Nineteenth Chapter

(AN: TW: verbal abuse, mention of suicide)

Mr. Perry drags us through the mass of people. Our friends are screaming after us, but we do not stop. The snow falls onto my skin, but I can't feel the coldness. I feel nothing. The situation is already bad enough when Mr. Keating makes the mistake of approaching us. He immediatly gets send away in a rude tone. "Get in the car.", my uncle orders Neil to go. "And remember this night well, because this is the last time you will see a stage in your life. That is the end of this nonsense!" And I just can't hold myself back at the sight of my cousin's heart breaking. "But that's not fair." The words fly out of my mouth with desperation. "Get in the car!" Mr. Perry points at the car, but I won't move. "He put so much work and effort in it and he was great! It's his biggest dream! And his life!" My voice is pleading and full of passion. "You can't take that away from him!", I cry out. "What I will do with my son is none of your concern! You're not a part of this family!", he snaps at me. A painful gasp escapes throat. Mr. Perry grips my chin and turns my face left and right. "Look at you." I clasp my hands around my body to hide. "Your face full of that dirt. Dressed like a slut." He reaches to my dress and almost rips the fabric. "You look like a clown." I'm trying not to crumble under his disapproaving look. Like a statue I'm not able to move or talk. My face as hard as stone. "Didn't you know that I would find out about you sneaking out and fooling around with these boys? Were you that stupid?", he rages on as I stare at him, barely holding it together. "I knew you would be useless like your father. A disappointment. But now obviously, you also want to be a whore like your mother." And that is when something inside of me cracks. He throws me on the passenger seat certainly leaving a bruise on my elbow. Away from Neil. Before he closes the door he looks at me seriously. "I told you that was the last time. I won't let your bad influence destroy my son's carrer.", he threatens me. "When we come home you can already start packing your things. You will go back to France and life with a foster family until you graduate." Hopelessness spreads in every fibre of my body. "I don't care what you do afterwards. Living on the street or whatever. But you won't set a foot in my home again or come near Neil ever." Then the door is slammed shut. Every muscle in my face is quivering in an attempt to hold back the sobs. But still the tears run down my cheeks in silence, loosing all control. I will never escape my fate. I will always be worthless. I will never be good enough. These thoughts torment me, my uncles voice coming from all sides. It's driving me crazy to the point I'm near to vomiting into the car. I reach my hand back and Neil meets me half way, squeezing it thightly. This us a disaster to me, but for him it must be the end of the world. This performance has meant a lot to him. It has meant everything. Stay strong for him. Instead of his heart there must be a void. A black hole, swallowing all of his spirit and soul. Or what is left of it. And I've never been so scared in my life. I'm scared that he won't ever recover from this.

We arrive at the house the dread following us into the living room. There I spot Mrs. Perry sitting in one of the armchairs sobbing. This terrible guilt eats me up inside. I have never cared about Mr. Perry's approaval, because I've known I wouldn't get it. But I have always wanted my aunt's love. And now I have destroyed our fragile relationship. It's all my fault. All I do is fuck things up. "I'm sorry, auntie.", I press out tortured. "I didn't wanted it to go this way." But she just starts to shake even more. Mr. Perry won't let me set one foot into the room. "Go to your room and to bed. And don't come out of it, until I say so." That could mean hours. Or days. I keep my eyes to the ground and do not dare to speak. Shortly I shoot a glance at Neil, but his eyes are glossy and distant. Fixed on something no one of us can see. Silently I go upstairs and close the door behind me. In the bathroom I stare at the mirror and don't recognise myself. The reflection is not my own but some cheap copy of my mother after she has come home after her parties. Smeared make up, toussled hair, clothes disshelved. And then I begin to clean my face with anger and disgust burning up in me. I rub my skin aggressivley until its red and sore. I rip out the pins out of my hair, a few strands with them. As I undress myself, almost ripping the dress, I realize how destructive I am. It's difficult, but I force myself to calm down. Carefully I wrap the dress up and put it away, slipping into my night gown afterwards. I fall onto the bed, exhausted. Exhausted from crying and from staying strong all this time. And so I let myself be taken from the darkness of sleep, hoping it will take me far away from reality or to never wake up again at all. If I would have only known, that I haven't been the only one to think that way.

Bang. That's what has startled me out of sleep. A loud 'bang'. I'm shooting up in my bed in an instant. My pulse is racing and my breath is fast. As I stumble to the door my bare feet touch the cold floor, sending goosebumpse over my body. I almost rip the door out of its angles. Mr. Perry is already in the corridor, suspicion written in his eyes. Then he runs down the stairs, Mrs. Perry after him. Something is wrong. Terribly wrong. I can feel it in my guts. But I'm still glued to the ground. It takes a few seconds for me to get out of my trance and go after them. Then I hear a scream and immediatly stop in my tracks. Light is coming out of my uncle's bureau. I lean against the wall to steady myself, stomach twisting and pictures flaming up in my head. The bureau. The desk at the window. The drawer. Neil. The drawer. The gun inside of it. Neil. The bang. The shot. Neil. Everything's getting blurry around me. My steps are slow as I approach the scene. "Neil?", I press out the question between clenched teeth. I take another step into the direction of the feet laying there behind the desk. "Neil." A fact. A realisation. Then another step. I need to see it. "Neil!" A choked shriek. Horror. Shock. I want to hurry to the body, but before I can see his face my uncle holds me back, shielding me from the sight. "Neil!" And that's all I can do. To say his name again and again and again. My knees are too weak to carry me anymore and I slump to the ground. Burying my face in my hands. Dugging my nails into my skin. I can't breath. I. Can. Not. Breath. I scratch my face and tear at my hair, until Mr. Perry grabs my arms and fixates them. And then finally air streams back into my lungs and a gutwrenching sob escapes my mouth, sounding so strange and unfamiliar as if it isn't my own. And I cry. I cry like I have never cried before. Not at my father's funeral. Not when my mother has left. Not when my uncle has punished me. Never. And so it goes on. For minutes, for hours. I don't know. I cannot remember how I got into my room again. If I have walked by myself or if Mr. Perry carried me. I cannot remember who has called the school or how the police has arrived at the house. All I can remember is the gun only inches away from my cousin's hand. No. My brother's hand. My soulmate's hand. And the feeling that I have lost him forever. Neil is gone. He is dead.