Open Clarity

PROLOGUE

"Matthew," I breathed, relieved to see him. To my surprise, he walked right past me without even acknowledging me and threw himself on his bed, his face buried in his bedspread. As his shoulders shook, I finally felt myself able to move, so I went and sat down on his bed next to him. As I rubbed his shoulders, trying to soothe him, I kept telling him, "It's all right, Matthew. It'll be fine. We'll work this out. We'll get your mom to talk some sense into him." He was too upset to respond.

Understanding his grief, I just sat there and rubbed his back and slowly, but surely, he started calming down more, and the crying stopped. He took a sharp breath in and sat up on the bed. As I leaned in to hold him, he stood up abruptly and angrily wiped his eyes with the back of his hands. He went to his dresser, which was near the door, and flipped on the light switch. The lights flickered a bit until they steadied to a warm, yellow glow. He opened the top dresser drawer and dug out a small, amber-colored cylinder. At a closer look, I realized it was the bottle of prescription pills again. It was about half-full. He took the bottle to his desk and sat down as he poured out its contents in front of him.

With a deranged expression on his face that I had never seen before, he sifted through the assortment of pills. I was suddenly filled with a deeper sense of fear.

"Matthew," I said with urgency. "What's going on?" Again, he wouldn't respond. I got off the bed, walked towards him and stood at his side, my hand on his shoulder. He didn't so much as flinch at my gesture. Panic struck me.

"Matthew!" I yelled this time. Again, no acknowledgement. I felt less and less capable of breathing as the tears in my eyes blurred my vision.

I knew at this point that screaming wasn't going to help the situation, so I just stood there over his shoulder and watched in horror as he sat at his desk. He sifted through the top drawer of the desk and pulled out a notepad and a pen. Through his tears, and my own, I watched him write his final message to the world.

He bowed his head into his hands and cried convulsively. Even though I knew it probably wouldn't have made a difference, I leaned over him and cried with him,all the while whispering into his ear, "Please, Matthew. Don't do this. You're not alone. Life is a precious gift. You're not alone. I'm with you, Matthew. I'm here with you. Don't do this."