That Cold Tuesday Night in July

Tuesday, 18 July, 2017

The doors and windows were closed, but the room was, well, Antarctica. The night grew darker as the sun made its final appearance for that Tuesday in July. Silence filled the room as we faced each other on the bed with the butterfly bed sheets. There seemed to be awkward tension between us and this never occurs. I would have predicted he'd be bragging about his new BMW or joking about school, but nope. Not a single word escaped his mouth. I knew something was wrong, but I wouldn't dare ask the question "whats the matter? Why are you so down and depressed?" As I looked deeply into his eyes, I knew exactly what was wrong.

His pupils were coal stones, large, black, round. They nearly covered the whole of his iris so only the smallest amount of brown was seen. He had the most unbelievable brown eyes I had ever seen. He was still, but his left eye faintly twitched. There was no movement, only the shallow chest movements form his struggle to breathe. His heart was beating out of his chest, you could pretty much grab it and rip it out. The gap between his top lip and bottom lip grew wider with every minute as small bursts of cold air escaped him. His hands became stone as they rested over his stiff knees. The hair on his legs, his arms, the back of his neck, stood proud and his goosebumps were prominent. His bottom lip began to quiver and he started shaking. His fingers, his hands, his shoulders, his chest. I tried to comfort him and calm him down but with every touch he still resisted. Soon, it was like an earthquake hit and he was still experiencing the aftershock. His eyes grew wider and it provided an explanation for what he was experiencing. He was seeing things.  Terrible, horrible things. If you looked close enough, you could see the little monsters in his eyes, though I think that was just my imagination. I had such high feelings for him, I couldn't stand to see him like that. I feared for his life, more than he did. I couldn't see what he saw, but i saw him see it.

Tears filled his eyes and drops of water travelled down each of his cheeks. His face was suddenly grave - a still face, and not one I knew. Each part of his body slowly relaxed, but his breathing proceeded to be out of rhythm, abnormally different to mine. At that point, we had been sitting in that room for nearly two hours, but it seemed like a lifetime. His first words broke the silence.

"I'm the kid who always looked out the window, failing tests in geography, but I've seen things far beyond just the schoolyard."

I didn't know what to say. I've never experienced what he had experienced that night and I knew, from that point on, I never wanted to experience it.

"Why don't you just... stop?" I asked, dreading the answer.

"It's not that simple, I'm addicted. It's my life and all this rehabilitation isn't helping. It's going to be my life until the day I die."

I wanted to help him, but I know I can't change him with anything I say.

"I want to help you, you know I do. I can't just sit here and watch you ruin your life."

"My life is already ruined. You haven't seen half the things I have."

He was right, this addiction has already taken away three years of his life, imagine the future.

"You and I may see things differently, but I can respect your views and decisions if you can respect mine."

We laid there in silence until the sun rose to greet Wednesday. It's scary to think that people you care about see things that you have no idea exist.