Breaking Point

16

Chapter 16

Monday morning saw me roll out of bed with dark circles under my eyes. My body was stiff, my limbs moving slowly, robotically, as I reached for my toothbrush, as I pulled open the fridge, as I slipped on my sneakers while suppressing yawns. After I'd gotten home the night before, sleep had evaded me and instead, I'd heard Ian's voice over and over again in my mind like a persistent accusation.

Did I still think he was weak?

No.

And, if I was being honest with myself: I never had. He had every right to stand up for his own beliefs, had every right to choose not to resort to violence. Perhaps, in my anger, I'd only revealed my own weakness by shaming him for not being able to fight back. Perhaps, deep down, I thought of his actions -- his decision to resolve conflict without violence -- more superior than mine and out of pride, had called him weak.

Ha, I thought. Some inferiority complex I seemed to have.

When I entered the art class that morning, just about the entire student body had heard what had happened over the weekend. I'd even passed by Ian's locker, which was decorated with get well gifts and cards, little tokens from sympathetic classmates and even, teachers. The sight made irritation boil in my stomach, to see students who had not even so much as given Ian a glance before then, now gushing and fanning tears out of their eyes when he was brought up now.

Nadia greeted me wearily, as I saw down with my art assignment, not in the mood to focus on it. Most students were still talking about Ian ("wait, why did he try to kill himself? OhmyGosh, he's in my Bio class! Once he brought his pet turtle to school. It was kinda cute.") I nodded my head in greeting to Nadia, but most of my attention was on what was being said about Ian. As the principal's voice drifted through the loudspeaker, listing off today's events and reminders, he mentioned Ian's name and I stiffened.

"A student, Ian Calder Smith, was hospitalised this weekend. I ask each and every one of you to keep him in your thoughts and wish him a quick recovery. Thank you."

Hearing his full name, made me think of when Ian had cheerfully introduced himself the day we'd first met. I suddenly drowned in a wave of guilt, wondering what would have happened if I'd chosen my words, if I'd kept my anger in check. Maybe, then he wouldn't have landed in the hospital, staring blankly at the ceiling.

"Heard you visited him." Nadia interrupted my morbid thoughts, glancing at me.

"Uh, oh, yeah." I nodded, trying to swallow the lump in my throat.

"How is he?" Nadia asked, quietly.

"...Distant."

"Oh."

"Did something...happen between you two?" She suddenly asked.

"What makes you think that?"

"It's just." She shrugged."You know, you two were close until like the last two weeks."

My shoulders slumped. Is that how obvious it'd been?

It felt horrible to know that I was the reason why we were here. It felt horrible to realise that, if it weren't for my words, we could have been fine, we could have avoided this turnout. I wrapped my head with my arms and hid my face. Besides me, Nadia laughed, shakily.

"Haha, come on now." Nadia mumbled, awkwardly. "Don't be so down. You're acting like you pushed him off the bridge yourself."

My head snapped up. "What the hell do you mean by that?"