It Seems Easy

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On the second day, my mom found me sitting with my legs out of the window. The sky looked dark and heavy.

"Have you gotten dressed already?" she asked, noticing my jeans.

"Yes", I said. I hadn't taken them off. Hadn't even thought about sleeping that night.

That's when she sensed it, I think. I had my back turned to her, but I could feel her face fall.

Careful not to wake my dad, she slowly closed the door and walked up to me. "Caspar", she said, putting a hand on my shoulder. I tensed. I'd never been comfortable with touching. "What's going on?"

The grass underneath my window had turned a shade lighter. The tree trembled when a bird landed on it.

"I'm not going back", I said. My voice sounded small even though I'd never been so certain about anything. "Ever. I'm done."

"Done with what? With school? Caspar, you know that's-"

"Shut up." What I said and the way I said it was so out of character that she removed her hand from my shoulder and took a step back. Five seconds later she walked out of my room.

Hushed voices and footsteps in the hallway. Heavy ones, barefoot ones - they belonged to my dad.

I turned around so my feet dangled over the floor. If I leaned back and fell, would it kill me? Would it keep me bedridden for long enough to not return to school?

"Come on. Let's go downstairs", my dad said. He wasn't screaming but his voice hurt my ears.

"No."

"Caspar. Come out of your room." There was a slight panic behind his words that made me feel something close to guilt.

"Okay." I did as he asked. He went downstairs, expecting me to follow him. I didn't. My mom, who was standing in the doorway of their room, seemed to realize what I was doing. Her eyes widened as I ran to the bathroom, locking the door behind me.

"Caspar, goddamnit!" He was screaming now, but he sounded more scared than angry. Ten minutes of yelling and banging against the door and then it was over. They went downstairs to talk.

I fell asleep on the bathroom floor and dreamed of dying trees and rooms without windows.

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