GIVEN A SECOND CHANCE | dear evan hansen

ONE

NOTHING FELT weirder than the idea of the people that you thought hated you most being so－ emotionally broken thinking about losing you.
not many people can relate to that feeling, but i can.

"hi, i'm connor murphy and i tried to take my life last month,"

the small room that sat underneath the local church was filled with bland greeting's along the lines of "hello," and "hey connor."

"so, connor." the middleaged woman that ran the support group started, turning my direction. "how did you try to take your life if you don't mind me asking?"

i clenched my fists and turned away from the woman, and looked off into the distance, my legs sticking straight out in front of me.

"i tried to overdose on adderall." i muttered quietly in response, looking down at my fists. my knuckles were white and my assorted metal rings were digging into my skin.

the rest of the support group meeting felt like white noise to me as i zoned out, thinking about－ nothing, really.

"and that was our first meeting!" the woman said, getting up from her chair and clapping, like a generic white woman does when a plane lands. "i hope you all are feeling more comftorble talking about your past trauma and i will see you all next thursday!"

after her whole spheal, the room emptied, getting a lot more quieter than it did before. cynthia was there to pick me up, mostly because larry thought it was a good idea to take my license away after my attempt. i opened up the door to the church and sighed, immediately making eye contact with my mother, who was sitting in her silver BMW. she waved and i quickly dashed over to her, hoping that no one saw what happened.

"connor! how was the session?" she asked once i opened the passenger side door, i grumbled a "it was okay." in response and closed the door behind me, pulling the seatbelt and strapping myself in. cynthia rolled her eyes and turned to face me, smiling widely. "these sessions will help you talk about your feelings, connor!" she exclaimed.

"yeah. you said the same thing about the anti-depressants and the therapy." i shot back, crossing my arms. "seriously, connor!" she cheerfully said back. i hugged myself tighter and turned my head away from her, praying that the conversation would just end.

i pulled my phone out of my pocket and unlocked it, most of my notifications being from a stupid groupchat alana beck added
me to. she's probably the only person i can closely consider as a friend. maybe not a friend. no one would want to actually be friends with me.

alana beck: does anyone have the answers to the honor's french homework?
jared kleinman: i don't take french.

my heart stops once i see jared's message. when did alana add jared to the groupchat?

jared isn't a crush. he's more of an asshole who you kinda get off to sometimes because he's annoying. i focused back on the messages and typed my response:

me: yeah, i think i have the homework. i'll check when i get home.

alana: thank you connor!
read by: jared kleinman.

i turn off my phone and admire my surroundings. it's nothing too nice, just the road ahead of us and trees. i can hear cynthia humming to herself, which is kinda better than the quiet. not.

i feel my heart drop when we finally make it to the familiar cul-de-sac that i spent most of my life in. i'm eighteen though. not that long of a life if you ask me.

"we haven't gone this way in a while," mom said quietly, turning over to me for a second. "you used to love the fall, you and zoe would jump in the piles. your father would always be upset because, well... he raked those piles." i nodded in return, muttering a "yeah."

"you ready, connor?" zoe murphy, who was nine at the time asked, turning to me, who was ten. i chuckled and nodded, grabbing her bandaged covered hand for support. zoe always liked to try new things, but was so clumsy that she'd end up hurting herself. "three, two, one!" we called out, running and jumping into the reddish-yellow leaves.

we laughed as we watched all the leaves move around and fly up, until larry murphy, our father, was seen in our field of vision. "what are you two doing? i just raked those!" he exclaimed, crossing his arms.

zoe fell silent, tears threatening to escape her dark brown eyes. i stood up and looked at my father, my fear obvious to him. "we were just having fun! we were gonna clean em' up after!" i shot back, frowning. larry rolled his eyes and pulled zoe up. she brushed the leaves off her light jacket and jeans, turning over to me with a smile.

"you two go inside, your mother is making you both some tea and cookies." he said. this was before we had to worry they were vegan or keto－ or whatever weird dieting fad she wanted to try this time. zoe cheered out a happy "cookies!" and ran inside, i followed behind her.

i missed the old times, i really did. was i going to admit it though? no.

before we even knew it, we were back at our house, a nice victorian style house that was redone in the 90's. larry's car wasn't there, which meant he was still at work or on a trial.

cynthia parked the car and opened the drivers side door. i did the same thing, digging in my pockets for the house key after i closed the door. she pulled her key out and showed it to me, smiling.

"i got it, con." she said, a kind tone in her voice. she locked the car, a loud beep leaving it and walked to the front door. i followed behind her. she unlocked the door and stepped in, i walked in after her. "shut the door when you get inside, please," i nodded and hummed out a "okay," and closed the door.

"i'm gonna go make us something to eat okay?" she asked, taking off her beanie and coat, hanging it on the rack nearby. "yeah, sure. i have homework to do so i'll be upstairs." i muttered, walking upstairs. my boots loudly hit the steps as i made it to the door all the way down the hall. it had a black metal sign with one of those warning labels that said 'warning you are entering _______'s room.' my name was filled in with a silver sharpie, it was messy but it gave people a warning.

i opened the door and closed it behind me, unzippering my jacket and throwing it sloppily into the closet. my math work laid spread out on my desk. i untied my tight boots and sat them down by my bed, relieved i was finally home.

i sat down in my chair, pulling it closer to my desk. i had my phone on, just in case i had to use the calculator for a problem.

out of nowhere, my phone buzzed. it was a notification that someone had messaged me on instagram. i don't have many followers, so it must've been one of those weird sex bot's

kyle.wakeman:
connor, i know you don't associate with me anymore but this is important.