The Teenage Struggle

Prologue

"Steve!" I called as I opened the front door. "Steve, you home?"

I flicked on the light switch and the house radiated with brightness. I squined, my eyes trying to scan the livingroom for a clue of his presence through the sudden change in luminosity. His bag hung on the back of one of the Bauhaus, steel chairs around the barren, glass table, part of the minimalist design present everywhere in our house. Indubitably, he was at home. He never went out without that horriby tattered leather satchel, which I was the only person to know what he kept in there. A CD with Grandpa Henry's last recording, his notebook, Grandpa Henry's fountain pen, his lunchbox containing his dose of 5 portions of fruits and vegetables for the day and various other futile things a normal person wouldn't even think of even owning.

Gradually, my eyes adjusted to the light and I called again:

"Steve! Where the heck are you?!"

The silence wrapped itself around me; a noose slowly tightening around my neck, suffocating me. He always answers. I know he puts his music on 25% volume for this exact particular reason. Panic started to surge through me like a river rushing downstream after a storm.

"Carl..." a feeble voice echoed from somewhere around the house. "I've messed up..."

"Have you colour coded your pencils wrong again?" I chuckled, relieved by the sound of the voice, which I immediately recognized as Steve's.

"No..." he coughed weakly. "I really really messed up."

"Hold on... " I rolled my eyes and flung my sleek leather jacket onto the hanger.

Steve usually panicked about the most ludicrous of things so I figured out I could take my time and trudged lazily up the stairs. The images reappear to me in flashes now. First the blood, then the bathroom, then his arms. When they're over, I hear the ambulance's wailing siren, my mother's frantic screams and the desparate ringing of my phone. The hospital was the worst part by far. The stark white corridors and astringent stench of medicines are imprinted on my mind with hot iron, leaving its scar to haunt me for eternity.