See In Him

12

  ⚠️TW⚠️ mentions of suicide attempts, addiction, depression.

Canadian Suicide Prevention Service: 1-833-456-4566

US national suicide prevention lifeline:
1-800-273-8255

Other numbers for many countries (I know it says Canada)
https://thelifelinecanada.ca/help/call/
(Thelifelinecanada.org)

Also, Please keep in mind that when I paste my writing in Wattpad after writing it in a doc, everything that should be in italics is not. Sometimes it sounds weird when things aren't in italics so I just wanted to point that out.

  Even after the waterworks stopped, Kennith was still a shell of a boy laying on the couch. He hadn't moved. Micheal would have thought he was asleep if it hadn't been for the blank, unseeing gaze fixed on the television. Kennith couldn't see any shapes, but he could see the light, and the audio and hand carding through his hair offered a good distraction.

  "Kennith?" Micheal asked.

  "Mm?" was the most Kennith could reply with.

  "Can we talk about Jesse?"

  "Mhm."

  His father was surprised, but it also scared him how pliant Kennith was, as if his very soul had left him. To stop the shaking in his hands, he put one on the side of Kennith's head and brushed at the hair with his thumb. "If you want him gone... he can be gone. I realize that he's triggering for you." Micheal was prepared to spend an extra few hours a week cleaning the house and tending to meals.

  "Don' care..."

  "You don't care if he stays or leaves?" Micheal shut off the television so he could hear Kennith's mumbling.

  "Don' care what he does. Jus' wan' sleep." It was the truth. At that moment, he didn't care about Jesse. The guy could burn the house down if he wanted to; Kennith still wouldn't move from the couch. He didn't care.

  "We can talk about it in a little while, then."

  "Mhm."

  The television was turned back on. Kennith allowed his mind to go completely blank.

———

  Kennith didn't leave the couch (save for when he used the washroom) for three days. His father paused his work to make him lunch, but he didn't eat any of it. In the morning, he took his medication, and in the evening, he took a sedative. With or without the medication, he felt numb, empty. Jesse came and went; he kept his distance. He was temporarily working part-time with another family during the day, but even when he was in their house, Kennith paid him no mind. In fact, he even forgot who Jesse was once or twice when Micheal had mentioned his name.

  On the fourth day, Micheal got him up for a shower. It was short and it was more simply standing under cold water than washing, but it was something.

  When Jesse first spoke to Kennith, the boy was in a trance, staring at his bowl of soup. It was all his father had time to heat up before he had to join a conference call. "I'm not angry that you hit me," he said, breaking the silence. Jesse leaned back against the sink hesitantly. Kennith didn't move. Jesse waited uneasily for any sign of life.

  "...Kennith?"

  "Hm?" he replied, fingers suddenly feeling for his spoon. It was almost as if Jesse had woken him from sleep.

  "I said that I'm not angry."

  "Why would you be angry?"

  The question shocked Jesse. "For... For you hitting me. I get it."