Therapy (Jalex)

Prologue

One of Tom's last notes to Alex was crumpled up and clenched in Alex's own fist. It had never left in the first place, even though a week had passed. It lay, fading and moist, in the closed palm of his hand. It was one of the last things he had of his brother. The slip of paper only saw the light when Alex was busy reading the already smudged writing of his late brother.

Hey Alex,

I'm leaving for England now. Sorry about leaving when you're at school. I know you would want to say goodbye, but hey, we have phones, don't we? It wasn't really working out at home. But you'll be fine- you're my little trooper. I'm sorry I'm going to miss your 16th birthday- I know it's a big deal, but I can't stay. You'll see me for holiday and such, though. I think I might come home for the new year. We'll see. Meanwhile, I'll email you so we can stay in touch.

So long, soldier.

Tom

Alex had requested to be homeschooled for the millionth time, and for once, his parents agreed. It was a tough time for all of the Gaskarths. Tom leaving for the UK was one thing. Tom leaving the living world was another.

When the family had received the news, Isobel had spent hours crying, hours wailing. Peter locked himself in his office, not leaving for a day, and when he did, he reeked of beer, coffee, and tears. Jillian and Helen flew over from the UK to mourn with the rest of the family. Getting off the airplane, their eyes were red and puffy, and when they saw their family, they ran over to them, bawling. But Alex reacted the worst of them all. When he found out that his half brother had died, he went into denial, even though he knew the truth. After all, he was only 15. He was supposed to be greatly affected.

But now Alex was taking it too far. His t-shirt hung off of his now bony frame after not eating, his skin turned a grayish yellow hue, his eyes were lifeless, and he hadn't spoken a word since two days ago, since the funeral. Everyone was worried about him. His friends kept calling and texting, his family kept trying to get in his room. For a quick moment, some people thought he had died, too. But that was quickly disproven when the entire family heard him sob in the dead of the night.

The funeral was the worst. It was Tom inside the casket, but it wasn't Tom. It was a lifeless version of him. His pale skin whiter than ever, his expression calm and collected, his pulse gone. He resembled a store mannequin. Alex half expected for Tom to leap out of the coffin, yell "April Fools!" and crack one of the terrible jokes Alex always had to put up with as a child. But it wasn't April. It was September. Alex didn't consider this the last time he saw his brother, for it couldn't be his brother. The last time he saw Tom was when he left for England. He was supposed to say a few words at the funeral, but he couldn't say his own brother's name before running down the aisle, crying, and then breaking down in the lobby. Isobel had to go and calm him down in the men's bathroom.

His half sisters, Jillian and Helen, had to fly back home the day after, and it was just Alex and his parents again. Peter and Isobel couldn't get him to leave his room, talk, or eat. They were afraid that he was going to die soon, and they couldn't take another one of their sons dying. They just couldn't, but they didn't know what to do. Multiple antidepressants were prescribed, but they all did the same thing-nothing. Alex was completely unresponsive, his emotions numbed, and he spent his time locked away in his room, not letting anyone in. September had gone off with the worst possible start ever.

In other words, Thomas Gaskarth was dead, and in a sense, Alex was dead as well.