Just Jack

Part Two: Chapter Fourteen: Just a Bit of Help

Chapter Fourteen

Just a Bit of Help

     When you were little, it was the monsters under your bed. It was the boogie man in the closet. Then, well then we grew up. We stopped looking under the bed and in our wardrobes because we all realized one thing. The monsters we feared, the ones that kept us awake all night, they were inside us. So maybe it's not the boogie man or anything. Its the kind of monsters we can't see, yet fear so much. We all know them-you've probably met a few of them in your time. Pain. Grief. Fear. Guilt. The list goes on and on. What we don't realize is, all of these 'monsters' are not actually monsters. They're just emotions. Yet sometimes, emotions can be scarier than any boogie man. Especially when we have to face them alone.

     I spring up in bed, sensing someone else's presence. Sammy jumps back, frightened by my sudden rising. I'm panting and sweating all over my body- my hair is soaking wet. She knows I've been having a nightmare. She probably heard me scream from her own room. She doesn't speak, instead she waits for me to pull back the covers on the side I don't sleep on so she can curl up beside me. She crawls into my bed and lays her head against the cold pillow. I lay down too and we face each other, almost breathing onto each others faces, silently. The only sounds between us are of the rain against the window, the bellowing wind.

     These nights are always rare and they are becoming increasingly less frequent as Sammy grows older. For a moment I fear the day when we will both be too old to seek comfort in each other. One day she won't need to crawl into my bed when she is afraid and I'm not always going to be here for her, at least not in this house. I shake off the thought of not having these nights anymore and smile to Sammy, happy that, for now, I can enjoy these nights with my sister. She smiles back, faintly. Her eyelids are becoming heavier and heavier and I watch as she begins to drift off. She doesn't know, but I love these times more than she does.

     Before she fully falls into unconsciousness, she whispers into the night.

“Will Emily be okay?”

     I consider letting her question go unanswered. Part of me hopes that she will just fall asleep and forget she ever asked me because, if I'm being honest, I don't think Emily will be okay and I don't want to say it out loud. If I say it out loud its like I'm accepting it, like her not being okay, is okay. Sammy opens her eyes slightly, waiting for an answer. I run my hands through her long, blonde hair and inhale.

“I really don't know, Sam. All we can do is hope. Get some sleep, it's late,” I say. She turns over on her side, her back facing me and within seconds, she is asleep. I envy her. At least someone will get some sleep tonight. All you can do is hope, Jack, I tell myself. Hope.

     I can't remember when my brain finally decided to shut off and fall asleep, so I am shocked when I wake up at seven in the morning. Sammy is still fast asleep. It's Sunday, she has no reason to get up early. Neither do I really, but I guess I'm just used to waking up at this time. I left my curtains open before I went to bed last night, I was so tired after coming back from visiting Emily, so mentally tired that I just collapsed. So, when a bright, golden sun begins to rise in the distance, its rays shine directly into my room, slowly making their way across it's surface.

     I can't remember that last time I watched a sun rise. Maybe I never actually took the time to do it. To actually sit and watch it. So this morning, I decide to lay there and watch it. I watch my room grow brighter and brighter and then I listen to the birds chirp in the tree outside my window. Their songs bring me back to my childhood and for one, undeniable moment of bliss, everything is how it used to be. Dad is alive, I have a best friend who doesn't abandon me and reappear, I'm not responsible for the death of a mother and I haven't got the burden of guilt over Emily. I breathe in this magical feeling and let it fill me up.