“You’re worthless, just pathetic! Stop crying or he’ll hit you again.” The woman who was supposed to be his mother rang out, threatening his father on him again. She was yelling at the top of her lungs at him, it was just another Sunday evening. The boy picked himself up of the ground he crawled as silently as he could away from the abuse. He tried with all his strength to go when she wasn’t looking but he didn’t make it. He never made it. His Sunday nights always ended like this. He would constantly wake up the next morning, somehow in his bed or on a random couch with a huge headache and a new injury. His mother had already left for the same low income job she had worked for the past thirty years. His father had just left the house. The boy crept up the stairs the door marked with his name ‘Marcus’; his room. He was careful not to wake his short-tempered brother. He showered away the images of the previous night, got his lunch together and left for school.
“Marcus! Dude, you didn’t respond to my texts this weekend, were you at football?” One of Marcus’ friends, Josh yelled from behind him in the hallway. Marcus had to cover the bruises someway, so he had told his friends that he was on a football team that practiced every night. He had just told them that he was really bad and that he got hurt a lot. Somehow they believed it.
“Yeah, practice was pretty intense last night; I got tackled and got this new beauty.” Marcus said pointing to his arm to show the bruise from last night. Marcus had mastered two things in the past years of his life; he could easily lie and cover his family’s tracks, and he could speak like he wasn’t in a deep depression all the time. He had learned to never show his true sadness, unless he was alone.
“Well you missed an awesome party at Blake’s on Saturday, even Daisy was there, she asked about you.” The sound of Daisy’s name caught Marcus’ attention but he chose to let it go. No girl would ever go for someone as broken as him. Josh caught his eye and raised his eyebrows slightly, as if in pity for him. Though Josh didn’t know of the pain he always felt, he somehow seemed to be aware that something was up. But he never did anything about it, he just seemed to be mocking him silently. “Anyway, I’ve got to get to class, see you later.” With a nod, Josh turned around and strolled down the hallway.
Marcus had gym first period but had never gone. His dad was the teacher. Marcus had always been frightened to go to that class. Or better yet, he was always frightened to be around the man he called ‘dad’. Marcus avoided him at all costs. Instead of following his peers, Marcus took his regular turn to the science wing. There was a fountain and a garden on the other side of that building. Not many people actually knew about the serene place, so he usually sat in an uncomfortable silence with his thoughts.
Like usual, Marcus threw his stuff onto the grass surrounding the fountain and sat in the shadiest part of the garden, right under a magnificent oak tree. Today was unlike any other, Marcus sat and cried. He cried for the loss of the love his parents had for him, for fact that his friend knew something could be up but didn’t care enough to ask, for the simple truth that no one care about him. No one really knew him. Though there was one difference in his routine today, he was thinking about ending it all more than he ever had. Today the grief seemed to engulf him, wrapping a strong grip around his neck, latching on to never let go. Today seemed like the perfect day to just stop trying, to forget about the pain and sorrow, to just leave this world.
A small movement caught his eye. He saw someone watching him. The person watching him started to approach him. The bystander was a new faculty member, one he had only seen briefly. It was a man, in his late twenties, wearing a dark blue dress shirt and pants. He strode slowly, as if addressing the situation underway in front of him. He sat down with extremely caution, as if not to disturb Marcus more than he already had. The teacher looked at him with eyes that said he understood.
“I almost ended it all four years ago. I hand the bottle of pills in my hand, I hand the drink in the other. I was ready.” He stopped for a moment and glanced around him. “There was only one reason I didn’t actually down the whole bottle. One reason.” He stopped to compose himself before he spoke again. “The only reason I’m still here is that one man spoke to me earlier in that day. He wasn’t a teacher and he wasn’t anyone from my family or friends circle. He was a cashier at the store that I had bought my instruments for my suicide from. He looked at me with a burning gaze, straight in the eyes and said ‘don’t do it’ as he slid a small paper across the counter to me. Scribbled on the paper was a phone number and a note that read ‘call this instead’. And as I sat at home, crying as the decision to end my life rested on my shoulders, I thought about the number and the man at the store, the look in his eyes, the fiery look of pleading. He seemed to know me more than anyone I had ever met did. In that moment I decided to call the number on the card. That one man saved my life.” The teacher stared at Marcus with what looked to be the same look of pleading that he described. He slipped one paper into Marcus’ hands as he stood up. He walked away, slowly and meaningfully.
Marcus’ eyes traveled down onto the paper that was given to him. On it, written in haste was “call this instead” and a number. He looked up to see the man gone, leaving him with just his thoughts. Marcus stared at the paper for a few moments before knowing exactly what to do. He reached for his cell phone and called the number scrawled out on the card.
“Kids Help Phone, my name is Janice. Are you okay?” The voice on the other end spoke with such compassion.
“I really don’t know. I think someone just saved my life.” Marcus spoke with a new light. He told Janice his whole story. At the end of his story of pain, Janice asked how old he was. He admitted he was 18 and she told him to move out, start his own life and talk to that teacher. Marcus did all of those things. He went and found the teacher who had talked to him and thanked him. He also told him of his situation and is currently living with him. The teacher who had taken time out of his day to help the boy crying in the corner saved that boy’s life all by writing ‘call this instead'.
