Isaac #4
“I mean,” I turned to look around the room and settled my eyes on the big chair at the back.
“This glass is thick enough to keep out the elements, but it’s not so thick that between the two of us we couldn’t break it, right?
And right there, you’ve got two options.
Pretty sure the glass would do the job if you wanted to go that route, just pick up a shard, a slice here, a slice there, and voila!
On your way to oblivion. But I mean, if you don’t wanna go the messy route, there’s the express ride to the bottom of the mountain.
You just have to find it in yourself to throw yourself over the edge, endure a few seconds of falling, and there ya go, problem’s solved. ”
He stared at me, his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide, before he shook himself and scowled. “What the hell is wrong with you? I tell you that shit, and you make fun of me?”
I glanced at him. “Who’s making fun? You think there’s nothing after death, and you’ve thought about ending it all so you can have that nothing. Well, even standing right here, there’s options to do that...so why not?”
“What the fuck are you even talking about? What the fuck are you doing?” he growled, taking a step back as if I was suddenly radiating a poisonous aura.
“I’m pointing out that you’ve had options this whole time. And who knows how many options you had before? Pills, heights to leap off, knives, guns, and who the hell knows what else, they’ve got detailed instructions online,” I said, raising a brow. “So, why haven’t you?”
“Fuck off,” he hissed, turning.
“It’s a simple question,” I shot back. “Are simple questions too hard now?”
“This isn’t simple. This is bullshit, fuck you,” he snarled.
I stepped around him. “No, what’s bullshit is you talking like you want to die, like you’ve just been holding off, and I’m trying to figure out why. You’ve got so many options and so many chances. And yet here you are, arguing and getting pissed off at me rather than doing it, so again, why?”
“Get the fuck out of my way!”
“Answer the question and I will.”
“Fuck off!”
“No. Why?”
“Because you’re on my last nerve!”
“Why?”
“Stop!”
“Easy question to answer; why?”
“Stop!” he roared. I moved when he swung and took a step back when he followed up with another. I wasn’t surprised that he was trying to hit me, but I was a little shocked at the force behind it. The next swing almost caught me, and I had to scramble out of the way.
“Why?” I demanded as he whirled around and found I wasn’t close enough to hit.
“Because I don’t want to fucking die!” he bellowed.
My eyes went wide when he grabbed the chair I had mentioned earlier, and I dove out of the way as he hurled it.
It went nowhere near me, and I looked up as I heard a dull crack, looking up to see an impact pattern in the large window, spider web cracks blossoming out as the chair lay on the ground.
Clay though...Clay was crouched on the ground, his head between his knees, his arms over the back of his head, clutching it fiercely.
I didn’t need to see the rapid rise and fall of his back to know he was breathing heavily; I could hear it in the silence that had followed his yelling.
Taking a deep breath, I pushed off the ground and made my way over to him slowly.
I wasn’t afraid of him, but I wanted him to have the chance to tell me to fuck off before I got too close.
He had to be aware I was there, but his shoulder still got tighter when I laid my hand on it.
I crouched beside him, my hand sliding between his shoulder blades, and let him breathe through the moment.
The sounds of his breathing were ragged and wet, and I continued to crouch beside him, listening but saying nothing as he slowly but surely calmed down and breathed normally.
When it grew quiet, I looked at him. “Say it again.”
“Stop,” he said weakly, not pulling his head from his knees.
“Say it again,” I said softly, rubbing his back. “You said it once, now say it again.”
“I...why are you doing this?”
“Because you need to hear yourself say it. Not when you’re pissed, not when you’re pushed, but right here, right now, after you’ve felt everything you just felt. Say it again. You’ve been brave enough to keep living despite hating your life so much, so be brave again.”
“I-I don’t want to die,” he said in a voice so quiet that only in the nearly silent room would I have been able to hear him.
“Me either,” I said lightly as he leaned backward and let himself fall onto his ass so he was sitting again. “And I don’t want you to die either.”
“I don’t want to die,” he repeated, his eyes and face wet, but no more tears left his eyes as he stared out the window, the sky turning dark as the sun truly began to set. “But...I don’t know if I want to live either.”
“But you have been living,” I told him softly. “Or at least, you’ve stayed alive. Maybe it’s time to start thinking about trying to live before you decide you don’t want to.”
“It’s not that easy,” he said, closing his eyes.
I scoffed. “Now, when did I say it was going to be easy? When the fuck was life easy?”
“I remember it being easy...once,” he said softly, wiping his face. “Jesus, look at me.”
I did as he said and smiled at what I saw. “Hot mess looks good on you, Clay.”
He snorted, rolling his eyes. “Fuck off.”
I laughed, leaning closer. “This is a good thing, even if you don’t realize it right now.”
“Sure,” he said, not believing it, but I didn’t expect anything less. “I just—”
The door slid open, and Reggie came bursting in, looking around wildly before seeing us and blinking in confusion. We followed his gaze as he looked toward the window, down to the chair still upside down on the floor, and then back at us.
“What happened?” he asked.
“A breakthrough?” I offered, but from the frown on his face, he didn’t accept that answer. Then I looked at the window and gasped softly. “Actually, the opposite of a breakthrough, those are some mighty strong windows.”
Reggie raised a brow. “Yes, I can’t imagine why we would make sure the windows are hard to break in a facility where we house people who are not at their mental and emotional best.”
“Then I officially rescind my previous statement,” I told Clay, smiling when he gave a watery laugh and shook his head.
“Fuck off,” he muttered, getting to his feet. “I’ll explain.”