James Hobbs' School for Troubled Boys (Old Version)

JHS4TB- Intro pt. Two

James Hobbs School for Troubled Boys: Intro pt. Two

This part is written by Courtney and Sarah. <3

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WARNING!!!!! The chapter contains the following:

Suicide, self-harming, abusive parents, depression, and a detailed suicide, if any of that is not to your liking, message us and we will give you a summary of what happened in this chapter. We are not setting out to upset anyone; we just want to make the reading of our story the best it can be. xx

 You may also want to have a tissue...j.s.

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Josh’s P.O.V. (Three years ago)

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            Raining, it always seems to be raining nowadays, reflecting the mood though. The casket in front of me was half open, his feet and legs hidden from view, fitting as to they were the first things we saw when we found him. Dangling out of a tree in the garden, my father’s feet covered in his favourite shoes, a note tacked to the trunk of the tree to explain his reasons, his apologies. They mean nothing, he does not have my forgiveness, he is a coward and doesn’t deserve anything from me. What grown man kills himself out of the blue, when he has a wife and child to take care of, leaving them with nothing but his last name? Now here I was at his funeral, watching people mourn over his untimely death but my father killed himself, he knew what he was doing. He knew how people would react, that’s why he wrote a note, much like my friend who died two months earlier. He gave my father the cowardly escape of life; my friend ended his life of ‘pain’ instead of waiting for it to get better. I’ve had to bury two important people in two months, I’ve had to sit through people telling me they are sorry, I’ve had people say it wasn’t my fault.

My friend, he was my best friend, he meant the entire would to me, he was my everything. My friend, he loved me in a not friendly way, in a relationship way. That was he’s whole reason for his depression, he thought I could never return his feelings because I was straight, but he was wrong. If he would have just told me, I would have returned all his feelings and more but instead, he burned and cut himself, until he finally committed suicide. He slit his wrists and ankles, sat in his bathtub full of warm water and let all of his bloody slowly leave his body.

            I went to his funeral, even though I didn’t want to because of the email he left me, the email with all of his motives in it. A tiny email that I got way too late, an email that said everything he ever felt about me, an email that means nothing to me (Even though it is printed out and tucked into my luggage). My father went with me, for moral support, that’s how my father found out about suicide, that’s where his grand plan starts to form. My father didn’t really know much about suicide until he talked to my friend’s parents about it, my father was kind of a loner, didn’t follow anything mainstream.

            My father wasn’t depressed. My father wasn’t unhappy. He was just bored. He was just a little lonely. That’s why he committed suicide. That’s why he left his family behind. That’s why he hung himself to death in a tree because he was bored.

            My mum was devastated when we found him, inconsolable, wanting nothing but to cry and scream on her knees for him to come back to her. She was saddened by his death, to a very unhealthy level. She wouldn’t look at me or talk to me, I looked too much like him, I acted too much like him, I dressed too much like him, I talked too much like him, and my eyes are a spitting image of his. When we found him I didn’t cry enough for her liking, I wasn’t sad enough for her liking, I wasn’t depressed enough for her liking. Everything I did was wrong in her eyes, everything reminded her of his coward image, I was upsetting her too much. I guess that is why she decided to send me away to school in America, so she won’t be reminded of him everyday. She needed to get herself help and she couldn’t do that raising a kid. I might have been fourteen but I’m smart for my age, I know about life with everything I’ve been through.