"I'm so sorry." That was his first sentence as soon as I picked up the phone. "I know it's late but I don't know who else to talk to. Everyone else is asleep and it's so quiet but I keep hearing these voices in my head and they're getting louder and louder and I don't know how to shut them up." He spoke so fast that I barely caught it, especially because I had just woken up from a deep slumber.
Groggily, I rubbed my face and sat up in my bed. The clock on my bedside table read 3.48 a.m. "Matthew," I called once he stopped rambling. "Have you been up all night?"
"Yes. I can't sleep. I've tried and I've tried so hard but I still can't. I'm wide awake, still." Matt said. I could hear the tremble in his voice and how ragged his breathing was. Then there was a long moment of silence as if he was thinking about something, unsure if he should've spoken the next words to me or not. He decided he should. "I almost took some pills." He said and as soon as the words registered in my brain, I was on my feet.
"I'm coming over, alright? Stay on the phone with me, I'm just gonna go get ready for a second." I searched blindly for the light switch, stumbling over the stuffs I shoved onto the floor the night before and cursing myself for it and once the light was on, I quickly changed into a pair of sweatpants and an over-sized hoodie. I took my school bag from the floor and emptied all the books onto my bed before heading to the kitchen and filling the bag with two apples, a big chocolate bar and a juice box.
I texted my mum to tell her why I went out in the middle of the night and got into the car. I continued to talk to Matt before driving. "You're okay with me going over there, right?"
"Andrea, I need you to be here."
"Alright, I'll be there in 10 minutes. But I need to drive now, so is it okay if I hung up? I promise I'll be there, you just wait, okay?"
"Okay. I trust you."
After he hang up, I floored the gas pedal and raced my way there. I was by his bedroom window in 5 minutes. Carefully, he opened it and I (not so gracefully) climbed into his bedroom where I saw dozens of papers scattered on the floor. I picked one up and read the random words he had scribbled on them. "Lamp. Bed. Desk. Laptop." He was listing off the things he had in his bedroom. Another paper had the word "FEAR" written on it over and over in red ink and there was one where he had sketched the drawing of an arm. It could've been a pretty picture if it wasn't for the scars he drew on it as well. There were more scribblings, more sketches and more words written in red ink but I didn't dare to look too much into them. If this was how catastrophic his room looked, God only knew how many things left unexpressed inside his head.
Matthew stared at me with his mouth agape, as if he was embarrassed that I caught him in all the mess. I wanted to hug him and tell him that it was alright, that he was alright but my hands were itching for something else. So I started picking up the papers and separated them into different 'categories'; drawings, lists of random things to distract himself, lists of words that were undoubtedly bothering him, and single words written repeatedly on papers. Once they were all sorted, I put them on his table and sat on the bed, gesturing him to sit with me.
I set my bag aside and leaned my back against the headboard with my legs crossed. Matt put his head on them, lying on the bed. Even with our close proximity, he looked like he was somewhere far off from here. He was distracted by his own thoughts and I needed to bring him back. Gently, I laced my fingers through his black hair and massaged his scalp. He closed his eyes and tried to fix his breathing.
"Talk to me." I whispered.
With his eyes still closed, he said, "There are too many things to talk about."
