Damaged Together

Chapter Forty

Our trip inevitably ends and I am sad to leave. I love our little vacations like this- it’s like nothing bad can reach us. However, reality is something you can’t just run away from so Jesse and I walk hand in hand into the hell thay is also called school.

My eyes barely stay open as we climb the stairs. Jess and I were up all night last night and I really just want to go home and sleep.

I rest my head against his arm and he squeezes my hand.

It was unusually hot this morning so I put on t-shirt rather than a sweater or something long sleeve. I have been getting more comfortable without sleeves but I still get very anxious around my peers. Ever since that girl grabbed my arm and saw them I don’t know what to expect from anyone else.

So my heart beat speeds up a little whenever I walk around people with my bare arms.

But by fifth period my anxiety has proved to be pointless- I believe that nobody has noticed the marks on my skin, that is, until I go to my locker.

I dial in my combination and pull the steel door open mindlessly. But then, I register a piece of paper slowly falling to the ground.

I pick it up and look around suspiciously. Nobody appears to be watching me so I open the folded paper with caution.

In tiny familiar hand writing it reads:

I noticed the scars on your wrist today and I broke down in tears. I’m sorry I was never there for you when you needed me. I regret everything I ever did. I have been doing the same thing to myself for 3 months now and I hate myself more than anything. And I finally made the decision that I am going to everything today.

I hope you can forgive me. But I understand if you hate me because I can guarantee I hate myself more.

I am so sorry for everything.

Although it’s not signed I know exactly who it is.

 I am going to end it tonight. The words run through my head. The same words that have been in my head so many times. Nobody ever tried to stop me. But I have to stop him.

But this can’t be real. My mind is racing. This can’t really be his suicide note.

My hands shake uncontrollably and I fumble for my phone. The tardy bell rings but I don’t pay attention to it, instead I text Jesse to meet me out front.

I fast walk shakily to the front of the school, my mind being pulled in every direction.

He’s there just a moment after me, “What’s wrong?” He asks frantically.

“Preston.” I say as I lead him to his car. “He’s gonna end it. It’ll be my fault.”

“Wait, what?” He questions confused. I know I am not making sense but my mind is struggling to process this information. “Lyssia, hey, look at me,” he grabs my arm, “Calm down and tell me what is wrong.” His voice is gentle and smooth, instantly calming me.

“Ellie’s ex-boyfriend. He was pretty close to me for some reason and he put this in my locker.” I put the note in his hand and give him a moment to read it, “We have to get to his house. Now.”

Without another question he lets us into his car and I give him directions on where to go but other than that the car is silent. All I can hear is the pounding of my heart in my chest. I don’t know if I should call the cops or call him or just get over there.

The wrong choice and Preston may end up dead.

I sit on my hands to stop them from shaking.

We turn onto his street and my heart is pounding out of my chest. Jesse keeps on reminding me to stay calm but I can’t help my nerves.

I think about the times he’d stand up for me, never enough to piss off Ellie, but enough to get her to stop terrorizing me for a bit.

He’d take me out for ice cream every once in a while if he came over before Ellie was home or if she stood him up.

He never treated me like his girlfriend’s little sister, he treated me like a friend. We’d talk about my cheer and his baseball. He was a better person towards me than most were.

We finally pull into his driveway and nothing feels real. Noises are either too loud or too quiet, my vision blurs and I suddenly lose my sense of direction. I struggle to reach the front door then I began banging loudly with every ounce of strength in me.

The neighborhood is spookily empty. Not a person walking or driving a car on the residential street that typically gets much traffic.

There is no answer at the door.

I try again, this time I add a kick or two in. I am desperate for an answer.

He can’t do this to himself. I have been at this low point, hell, sometimes I almost fall back in again but I refuse to let him end his life. I wiggle the door handle to see if it’s unlocked. No such luck.

“We have to go around back,” I urge to Jesse who is helping me bang on the door.

He nods his head and without grace or elegance I run to the side of the house, him trailing behind me.

I recall which is Preston’s room from the few times I’d been here. I knock on the shaded windows and try to look in but blinds and curtains block my view.

“Preston!! Preston!! Please answer! Preston!” I yell through the glass.

I press my ear up to the cool slick surface, listening for a response.

The cold slate sends chills through my entire body. But then I hear it- a sniffle.

A sign that somebody is in there.

“Preston, open this window or I am busting it.” I wait a second giving him a chance to take the offer.

He doesn’t. So I take my foot and kick the window with as much force as possible. It cracks. I hit it again despite its height on the wall. Cheerleading has paid off that’s for sure.

It surprisingly shatters and Jesse boosts me up into the room. I lift myself into the small room and see Preston on the bed. His face stained with tears, a pill bottle in his left hand and his forehead resting in his right. His eyes barely meet mine when I enter.

My heart breaks because I have been in his exact spot.

I cross the room without words, I check the pill bottle.

It’s empty.

The air leaves my lungs.

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