How Not To Survive In High School

15 - We'll Be Happier Now

I felt sick on the car journey.

I hadn't looked in a mirror in over a month. Not until I saw my reflection in the car mirror. I'd forgotten I even had an appearance. Let alone that I used to care about it.

I stared for far too long. My mum's eyes met with mine in the mirror. Hers went slightly red before she blinked and looked down.

"Honey, I made you a sandwhich." Mum wavered, emotionless. "I want you to eat it."

Dad turned and handed it to me. I looked for a while. "Hey," I looked up at him. He smiled.

I felt a pang. I'd hurt my parents for too long. I took the sandwhich and took a bite.

I wasn't hungry. I hadn't been for ages.

I shuffled along endless white corridors. My face was blank. I walked past beds I had used years ago. I'd been here two or three times before.

We spoke to a receptionist. Then we waited until a doctor came to lead us through more corridors, talking the whole way, to the east end of the hospital where the mental ones go. Where I went.

We stopped, "Here we are. He's asleep at the moment but he'll want to see you. Well probably he hasn't spoken much but he's been writing. And drawing an awful lot. He won't let our nurses see but maybe you could find out what he's been working so hard to -"

He paused. My face empty. "Hang in there, Sam. Go in whenever you're ready."

I was left alone. I looked around at the patients around me. They were just faces. They all had there own stories. But to me they were just faces.

I reached out and touched the hospital curtain. I stroked it for a while. Finally I held it and pulled it back. It was open.

Before me lay a boy. He was pale. So pale. He was in an awkward position on the bed, fast asleep. In a different world. Maybe I wanted to let him stay there. So he didn't have to return to this body. This world.

His cheekbones stuck out as if his skin wasn't attached. It lay limply on his bones, thin as paper. Tired.

His hair wasn't jet black like it used to be. The shine was gone.

My heart was in pain. I hadn't felt this since the Eiffel Tower. It was in pain when it finally snapped that it was Skye lying there. My only friend. I'd forgotten how important a 'friend' actually is. Taken it for granted.

I frowned a little, walking slowly down the side of the bed. Part of me wanted to stay away. I didn't want to see him like this. It wasn't him. Not the Skye I knew. But the other part gave me a slap in the face and told me to hug him tightly and never let go. But I felt I might break him.

I say down next to him. There was a book and a biro on a table.

I opened it. There was a black page. Scribbled completely in pen. Turning over there was the same thing. And again. And again.

I kept turning until there was a drawing of a person. A girl.

She was crying. I could feel the pain he felt drawing it. I could see it in her eyes.

Wrote at the bottom of the page was, 'i'm sorry.'

A tear escaped down my cheek. But my face didn't flinch. My vision blurred as I placed it back down.

"Sammie."

I turned.

I tried so hard not to flinch. I didn't want to show it. The pain.

I looked into his eyes. The life they used to have in them had faded. They frayed, now gray.

I remembered how piercing they were by the lake at school. I remembered the sparkle they had in them in the cornfield in Paris. How blue they were.

Then I came back to the present.

I flinched. My cheeks soaked.

He lifted up his bony hand wiped them away. I shut my eyes, unable to make a sound.

"Sammie," he said again with dry lips. "Why did I do this to you?"

"What?" I looked down. "No, I am fine. Its you. Why are you doing this to yourself?" I spoke quietly. I didn't want to break him.

He just smiled. "I'm so happy you're here."

I was torn apart. All I could do was hold him in my arms. I just needed to touch him.

"When are you getting out of here?" I sniffed moving head to look him in the eyes. "Hey, don't forget what I told you. Don't forget the promise I made you."

He smiled again. "I never did."

"I -"

I kissed him. It didn't matter that his lips were dry, or his arms were frail. I didn't care one bit. He was in there.

"I love you."

The words came out of my mouth so clearly. I didn't even think about it. It was so true. I hadn't felt so sure about something in a very long time.

The corners of his mouth tilted. "Well of course you do, we're married right?"

I beamed. He's back.

Staring him directly into the eyes, I said, "I am going to make sure you are happy you stayed.

We'll be happier now."