Chasing Freedom (Book 2)

Chapter Thirty-Two: What Actually Happened (Aislinn)

Chapter Thirty-Two: What Actually Happened (AISLINN)

"I still can't believe he did it," I shake my head, scowling at the rows of books in front of me, wondering how it was possible that a person could spend so much time in one place and not notice how quickly time was going by.

            Aidenn-sitting beside me, paging through a thick supernatural history book with half opened eyes-sighs and with a shake of his head, snaps the book shut. "Aislinn, it happened over a month ago. Just forget about it."

            "I can't," I say in exasperation, "he tried to kill himself, Aidenn, and he would've too if you hadn't been there to stop him. He's just so-so," I stutter over my words in frustration, "so... selfish!"

            "Is that the reason you haven't talked to him since his birthday?" my brother says in a flippant tone, reopening the book and looking down at it like he didn't really care to hear my answer, "or are you just pretending that you're mad at him?"

            "I haven't talk to him," I correct rather defensively, "because he doesn't deserve for me to worry about him. After all I've done for him and he was so willing to throw it all away. It's not fair."

            Aidenn clears his throat awkwardly and looks away, his eyes darting back and forth in a way that he always does when he has something to say.

            I stare at him with a cocked eyebrow, "what? Am I wrong?"

            "I didn't say anything," he responds.

            "You didn't have to; it's written all over your face."

            He remains quiet for a few beats, before blowing air through his lips and sighing, "I just think that you're looking at it all wrong. He didn't try to kill himself because he wanted to spite you; he did it because he's not happy, because he's broken and scarred. The love of his life is missing, Aislinn, and he doesn't know anything other than the fact that she's gone."

            "So what are you trying to say?" I snap bitterly.

            "What I'm trying to say," he shoots me a pointed look, "is that what he did wasn't selfish. It was a cry for help and I think it's wrong that instead of being there for him-because he needs it now more than ever-you've left him on his own. I'm not saying I like the guy, because I don't, but if he was desperate enough to try killing himself, that obviously means he's tired of not feeling anything, that he's tired of always being sad, that he wants the help but just doesn't know how to ask for it."

            "If you feel like that, why don't you help him?" I ask with a scowl.

            "Because I'm not the one that cares about him," he replies swiftly. "You do. But here you are calling him selfish and all pissed off that he tried to kill himself and I can't figure out if it's because he tried killing himself or because you didn't know he was trying to kill himself. People don't commit suicide because their selfish, Aislinn, they do it because they're tired of being selfless. Their hope, their want to live, their rhyme and reason; it's all gone, there's nothing left. That's why they do what they do."

            I shake my head, my gaze lowering to my boot-clad feet.

Now that the summer months had bottled up and gone away, with them they took the warmth of the sun and the promise of something amazing happening like all summers had. And sun-kissed hair created from days spent on the beach and long nights out had been replaced with mismatched coloured leaves and cool breezy winds, forcing everyone out of their lazy lifestyles and bathing suits into long pants and scarves and the promise of a new school year.