Oscar…my closest friend. We met when we were six in elementary school. Apparently being the kids who had to eat the teachers’ leftovers by the trash, we were called many things. Gay, faggots, hobos, homeless homosexuals, and more but they are all the same content. Being together and helping each other out was apparently “gay” to other kids who had their life handed on a silver gold-dusted platter. We fought to survive and it’s better than being alone. Oscar and I made it all the way to high school in tenth grade. But when we came into middle school, it was difficult. Drugs were introduced, bullying was unenforced, and people hate other people because the other people dress depressingly, different.
Well we all can’t wear Ae`orpostal, Abercrombie and Fitch, Hollister, Polo, Ed Hardy, and Victoria Secret clothing. Some of it, (forget it, I ain’t gonna be nice),allof it is just shit. It’s just different color shirts with logos on it in huge writing everywhere. Just pointless. And no one wants to read your ass, if you don’t want people to look at your ass why would you wear giant sweat pants or too tight skinny jeans. And what do you get from that? Horny guys just see the size of your ass to calculate how they could get their dicks into your pussy, girls. Nothing special at all to it.
Most people who do have those clothing to me just act like bitches. It’s not an insult cause they know they are and they are proud to admit it too that they are. Why do people hate other people because of how they have different likes and dislikes then you? Why? As long as we don’t bother you, you have no right to bother us. That’s how I see things in this sicken world. I sometimes wonder why GOD allows it.
We wished for people to just leave us alone.
It was seventh grade when our trouble really started.
“Oscar…Andy, do you two know why you are in my office this afternoon?” asked Principle Jostens. Oscar and I shook our heads. We know we have done things but what?
“The janitor spotted you two outside behind the school after school hours smoking. Want to put anything in?” suggested Principle Jostens.
I spoke solidly and truthfully. “It numbs our pain.”
“How does it do that exactly?”
“When our parents beat Oscar and I, we still have some pain when we come to school so we try to get high and stop some of the pain we receive.” I answered.
Principle Jostens was taken back at my answer. He licked his lips and thought for a minute. “I am sure, you are telling the truth, because you are two students who actually try to stay out of trouble and I respect that but if we have to revisit this you two will be suspended for three months. Are we clear?”
“Crystal.” Oscar agreed for us.
After that we didn’t smoke on school property anymore but we still smoked, either at the skate park, in the local dumpsite, and most times we found a crack house. It was two stories with high ceilings and wooden floors, walls, and best of all abandoned. We weren’t the only ones there, sometimes there would be three or five more people there. We didn’t mind sharing. We didn’t get involved with them but they also respected our space like we did with their space. We would have conversations with them but nothing illegal they committed we were there too, except of course the crack, weed, pot, and smokes.
We would leave around five in the evening, stop by some trash bin with some fresh food, and then head back home. If Oscar or I knew that the night was sure to have either one of our parents drinking we went to each other’s house. This particular night Oscar had gone to my house because he knew for sure his dad would drink this night and we went to my house since my mom doesn’t drink on Wednesdays. We snuck into my window which was easy because it was a one story house. We slept underneath each other’s beds to make sure our parents didn’t stumble in our rooms to take a peek.
Around eight at night we listened to Skillet. Awake and Alive. This made us wonder that if we do have control of our lives, why waste it this way with all the drugs? It keeps us thinking. It’s wrong but it helped in many ways to numb excruciating pain, and then it would be right to drop it and quit smoking, but it wouldn’t take our pain away. We would face our parents unarmed, and afraid of what they would do if we happened to be around. Six years of this torture was enough for us. We wanted our parents to stop drinking, but we would have to stop smoking. Our parents never smoked. It wouldn’t happen, liquor was more of their thing. It would be hard. To stop smoking was hard. We weren’t addicted but I can understand how you could get easily addicted to it.
We didn’t want this fear to take over us the rest of our lives.
School came around and as Oscar and I walked to our homeroom class I noticed a girl in the far left corner of the classroom sitting at her desk alone reading a book. Her brown hair was straightened and two clumps escaped from behind her ears and hung by her face. Her arm sleeves were black and blue checkered and she gripped them between her palms and fingertips as she held her book. Her rectangle glasses were black and fit her face form. Her Gir shirt was black with Gir on it and with colorful dots spotted it with green writing that read, “Pinches of Doom!!!”, Gir was a character from Invader Zim. Gir was an adorable robot who acted very cute, and dressed up as a dog costume that was obviously a costume because the zipper was large and in the front, Gir stood on his hind legs, and talked nonstop about waffles, pigs, monkeys, and pinches of doom. I had never noticed her before, I guess because she was always in the back and Oscar and I were always together I suppose I could have overlooked her but I can’t see why though. Her face was finely framed; her smile was full and sexy. Her cheeks were a soft rose by natural skin tone, her face was pale too. Her brown eyes were round and could either be large or half closed and she would still be intriguing.
“Ooo, seems like Andy is in love.” Oscar joked next to me where no one could hear but us. I smacked his chest and turned my gaze back to her. I noticed that as she tucked her hair back in place from her face I notice her ears. She had two pairs in each lope, two at the top right ear and one in the left ear, the rings in her ears were silver metallic balls for the first pair in the lope, then they were red and white soft spike pair, in the right ear with the two top piercings, was a star and a narrow slanted rectangle that went up above her ear, the left top piercing was a black dragonfly.
“Got to admit though Andy, she is very hot.” Oscar continued. I had to agree with him.
“Should I approach her?” I asked Oscar.
“Sure, you’ll never meet a girl like that ever again. That’s for sure.” Oscar encouraged.
I smiled and started forwards. As I was about to come within seven feet to her some girls came by in front of my and pinched the girl’s shoulder.
“Jamie, why do you straighten your hair? Don’t you know it’s going to damage it?” that snooty bitch Cassidy mocked her.
Jamie…that was her name…it suited her, maybe even Victoria but it seemed too trashy for me to think that way. Jamie was best for her.
Jamie remained silent.
“Hello?” Cassidy mocked again. “Don’t you know how to use your voice? I swear to god you’re stupid. But anyways, what’s with the sleeve gloves? It’s eighty degrees outside, you’re going to burn up, get sweaty, and stink up the school.”
Jamie’s face got annoyed. She stood up and said, “Shut the fuck up. I don’t want to deal with your shit. I did nothing to you. So back off you dick-suckin’, cock-eatin’, motherfuckin’ asshole.” She stood her ground. She was strong I could tell. Not by what she said but how she said it. With authority and strength to show off in her voice that she knew what she was doing.
Cassidy slapped Jamie.
Jamie took hold of Cassidy’s blonde hair slammed her head into the desk, brought her head up again and punched her nose. She shoved Cassidy over a desk, walked over yanked Cassidy’s head up again to make sure Cassidy heard her whisper. “Whatcha going to do?” and slammed her head into the floor.
Damn. Is all I could think.
By the time Cassidy was helped to her feet by her “friends” the seventh grade principle was there escorting Jamie and Cassidy to the office. Jamie had forgotten her book, so I held on to it. Shakespeare… poetry was something she must like for her to read Shakespeare. I began reading the book. Taming of the Shrew. It was hard to comprehend at first. Shakespeare it highly over-written and dramatically plotted it was hard to follow.
After holding on to the book for two periods I found Jamie in third period. I came to her and she seemed bored. I dragged a chair to her and returned her book and to find out what happened in the office with Cassidy.
“Cassidy got suspended for four months, and has In-School Suspension until the end of the year.” She explained.
“You didn’t get in trouble?” I asked her.
“Nope.” She proudly acknowledged with her head high and shaking her bangs to the side of her head.
I stretched out my hand for a handshake and introduced myself. “I’m Andy.” Jamie shook my hand firmly with her small strong hands, and said, “I’m Jamie. And thanks for returning my book. I actually thought I lost it for a minute but I just need to finish Taming of the Shrew so I can read on to Othello.”
“I don’t read overly-written poetry so, I’m use to Elizabeth Bishop.” I explained.
“I enjoy her in my free time.” Jamie agreed. “What’s your favorite one of her’s?”
“First Death In Nova Scotia. What about you?”
She replied, “I enjoy Argument.”
“Look, Jamie,” I say and her face is immediately interested-looking when I say the first two words. “I know you must get asked out a lot but if I can be a guy who changes your life I would have a great honor of being that guy.”
“You trying to be Shakespeare being overly-written?” she asked giggling at the end.
“Maybe.” I say.
She raised a playful eyebrow and curled part of her lip upward in a small smile. “I don’t know if I can handle a boyfriend.” She admitted.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” I said. “What makes you think that?”
Jamie leaned forward and looks me dead in the eyes. “I am suicidal.”
The bell rung and Oscar and I got back together. “Dude, what she say?” he asked.
“She’s suicidal.” I said straight to the point. Oscar was taken back and we were on our way to the crack house after school.
Oscar and I were deciding what our parents might do tonight but it was unpredictable on a Tuesday.
“Andy,” Oscar asked. “What makes you think Jamie is ‘suicidal’?”
“I don’t know, she might be going through the same things we are. But I doubt that. She doesn’t have any marks on her skin so I don’t think she has abuse.” I say.
“Think she might have mental problems?” Oscar suggested.
“Naw, man, she can’t. She’s too smart to be mental.” I doubt.
When I turned my head and gaze back straight to see where I was going I bumped into a person and a body fell on mine when we landed on the concrete sidewalk. I cringed my face in pain from hitting my head on the ground and the person’s head for hitting my nose. I opened my eyes and I saw a girl shake her brown hair from her face and she reopened her eyes as well from the pain and our eyes met. Jamie…
For a moment possibilities ran through our heads like race cars and then after a long pleasurable thirty seconds Oscar helped me and Jamie to our feet. She still had her hands crunching her sleeves in her palms.
She smiled, “Sorry. I should have seen where I was going.”
“No I’m sorry, I should have paid attention.” I apologize.
“So where you guys headed to?” she asked.
Crap. Should I explain to her we’re on our way to a crack house? I just met an extremely attractive girl and i don’t need her to get the wrong impression that I am an addict when I’m not.
“Fine, if you don’t want to tell me that’s fine, but you know this is a bad part of the city right?” she said.
“We know. Look Jamie,” I attempted to admit. “We’re on our way to a crack house,”
Her face lit up in surprise.
“But before you conclude anything,” I continued. “We only do it because it numbs our bodies and we don’t as much pain when one of our parents beat us.”
“Oh, my god.” Jamie said. “I’m so sorry. Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s a good reason for you if it makes you better, but I just recommend that you try to get off the stuff. It really messes you up.” She advised.
“How do you know?” Oscar asked.
“I used to do it too when I was eleven. It helped with my problems too.” Her voice getting softer and fainter as she said ‘problems’.
“And what problems are those?” Oscar asked.
“It’s difficult to explain because it’s from different people in my life who causes me pain.” She admitted hugging her arms around her torso like she was a turtle hiding in a shell. “I don’t really want to talk about.”
“We understand. We’ve been dealing with abuse since we was eight.” I admitted.
“That sucks.” She agreed.
“You know we are always here to talk to. We’ve been helping each other out since we were six. We don’t mind adding someone to our little group. Well only Andy and I but we could use another friend like you.” Oscar encouraged her without being too pushy. He is at that, encouraging people but not pushing them into something they don’t really want to do, but still has words of wise encouragement.
“Thanks guys.” She said. “And I’m sorry but who are you?”
“Oscar.” He replied.
“Andy and Oscar…cool names, I don’t see how my plain self could fit in with you guys.” She doubted herself.
“You’re plain?” Oscar asks.
I hold out my arms and lifted them up and suggesting she examines her own wardrobe. “You are a colorful scene.” I say.
Jamie giggles and her cheeks turned into a brighter but still soft color of light pink roses. “I suppose I’m a little bit of an emo scene girl.”
I notice that she is listening to music when I faintly hear her music pouring out from her ear buds. They were neon blue buds but with neon green strings.
“Whatcha listening to?” Oscar notices too.
She takes out an ear bud and replies, “’Awake and Alive’ by Skillet.”
“We love that song.” Oscar exclaims.
“I know right!” she exclaims with him with a smile on her face, and it was that attitude she should be having. “I love Skillet!”
“Have you heard ‘Whispers in the Dark’?” I asked.
“Um, who hasn’t besides those tasteless dumb fucks.” She says in a fun excited sassy voice that was just happy to hear.
“I know right!” I exclaim.
Jamie smiles at our fun conversation and she says it time for her to be home soon. We hug her goodbye and she leaves.
This night for a change we turned the opposite direction from the crack house.
I see Oscar in his room and in his living room you can hear the echoes of his parents arguing and someone just broke a lamp or some glass house object. I’m Oscar's room, white walls, blue carpet, skulls everywhere, scratches on the wall, and many dream catchers hung by the window. He lay with his hands crossed behind his head lying on his pillow.
“I don’t why you think Oscar is fucking depressed!” his father screamed. We turned our heads to the door even though it was closed tight.
His father drunk and didn’t care about anything about Oscar. Oscar never really liked his dad, since his dad never really liked him.
“You should!” his mom screamed. “You son has been depressed since he was five years old. He was lucky to have had Andy and now Andy is gone. Andy was Oscar’s best friend. He misses Andy, and I do too, Andy shouldn’t have died and what makes this so uncontrollable for emotions to be kept calm. I’m surprised Oscar hasn’t shot himself yet.”
From his mom’s words, Oscar began to cry. He began his prayer as he would do before he would slice his arm. “I’m at war with people who out-numbers me, and wants me dead. Help me stand my ground and guide me to never back down. I need strength but right now I have none.”
He took a blade from a shaver and slit his wrists with a total of fourteen scratches. So seven on each arm. He let the blood seep out. The cuts weren’t deep enough for him to die just slowly rot closer to death that’s all. All I could do was watch as the blood soaked into his bed and pale skin. Oscar needs more strength than anyone of us. He was an easy target except when we were having the time of our lives. His parents disappointed him for what they do. His dad, the drunk, and his mom, the mental patient of a ward because of an overdose of drugs; it was the ugliest mix of parents and Oscar was never told he wasn’t an accident.
When his parents had Oscar, they thought sticking together to raise him would be a good plan, but they’re two different people and what happened was an accident. But bringing Oscar into this world was a miracle for me to have such a good friend car.
Oscar’s face flushed the color from his skin and it turned into a liquid paper white color. My face frowned at Oscar. His tears forked down his face and salted his mouth, throat, and neck. Shame is what Oscar felt. He thinks that if he died, his parents won’t have to worry about him, a mistake that was completely accident, his parents wouldn’t be together and they would be happier. He thinks these thoughts every day. I observed his room as he bled onto the sheets.
Above his window I remember he hung up a black blanket to hide from sunlight when he wanted everything to be dark so everyone thought he was asleep when he was really crying and slicing. In his corner was a case full of CDs of everything we burned from our computers of every song that gave us strength or understood us basically. He had another shelf of books of Stephen King, Dean Koontz, and Lauren Kate. His desk consists of his white computer, pens, razors, knives, and fake voodoo dolls with needles or knives impaling their body parts. His closet is filled with black and random splashes colors on the blacks that blended into the walls. He keeps his room clean so he is distracted from almost every suicidal thought and bad even that has happened to him. Oscar is smart but when there is an honor roll celebration he doesn’t attend. He doesn’t like being social and even if he did go it would be pointless. Most people wouldn’t even pass near him because of how he acts. He’s not antisocial he just hates people because he knows they bully him either in his face or behind his back. They bully him because they think he is just putting on an act about being depressed. But who acts depressed? If you do it’s only to just get people to feel sorry for you. But if you do have real problems we stay away and not tell anybody because they won’t understand the hurt. We stay away because if we do create enemies then it makes things worse. If you bully someone and you don’t know what they’ve been through, you should be held responsible for their suicidal actions they take upon themselves.
Legally no one should ever bother, harass, or touch another person.
Oscar began crying a little more loudly but not too loud. His face pale from the blood loss. I fell to my knees on his carpeted floor and began crying too. I hugged myself in my own arms but they really should be around Oscar. He doesn’t deserve this. No one does. I cringed my face as I cried and bowed down to misery on my knees. I cried loudly enough to not hear Oscar anymore. I lost him even though I’m the dead one. Words escaped form my mouth that my mind wanted my ears to hear personally and linger in the air around me.
“No…no…no, Oscar, you don’t need this. But you do need life.” I choked out as my throat gaged on little tears and burning air. “Now, because of my murderer, you’re alone. And I can’t help you anymore.”
Jamie was back safely at her house where her real home was her room. She was crying and screaming in her green pillow; the CD of Nickleback playing loudly so her screams are not heard. The song is Photograph. Jamie and I always think when this song plays. We don’t listen to it for entertainment from a cool band but to really and deeply think about what it might be like for us.
Think of this when you hear the song: ‘You’re living now and you wonder what your future is like. You probably won’t see your friends from high school, middle school, elementary school…then when you are far away, your house is taken from your memory because the new owner tore it down to their liking, you can’t see the faces of your teachers who were your friends, you can’t see your own front or backyard the same way, every time you walk out that front door you have a memory to remember even if it’s just to enjoy the weather you are making a memory. You make a memory and when it’s gone in a blink of an eye you wish to replay it over again. You miss that place even though at the time it was probably hell but it made you who you are today. Saying goodbye to everything you had, all those times you can’t replace it, all those faces you can never really replace it, you wouldn’t want to fix it because you know there was love when you were there and every time someone made you laugh it sticks to your memory like glue. Taking pictures or photographs it reminds you of keep that memory. You don’t want to change the bad times cause as long as you had love you shouldn’t care about the haters. But when you look through those memories you can’t help but cry and relive all those events, but when you have to put up those photos you realize they are still scattered over your floor for a few more hours. It’s hard to say goodbye. And when you graduate and leave it all, this replays in your mind over and over again.’
Isn’t sad for two teenagers to think that way? When they are just turning sixteen?
Jamie cried louder in her pillow screaming, “Andy! Who hurt you! Come back! Please…” I miss you so much, Jamie. You don’t get half of it. To know you suffer because of this maniac’s lust for you.
This isn’t the first time she has been wanted sexually. When we met in seventh grade she usually kept quiet until we were together. In the back of the room of a classroom we would listen to Skillet. All we talked about was breaking out of this cruel word and how we would do it. Obviously this wouldn’t ever happen. But we could always imagine what we would do. Plus with our minds keep coming up with different scenarios it was fun to come up with solutions. But in some cases when reality would turn back on us we couldn’t even begin to escape.
After third period Jamie had to go downstairs to her next class which was free study hall. Now I don’t know how some of your study halls work but our school’s is just to study for extra credit for two hours a day. It was our only time apart. Then when my teacher sent me downstairs I went to drop off some letter to another teacher who was across the hall from Jamie’s study hall. But when I crossed through the doors to the downstairs hall and to the right was the girls and boys restrooms. But there sitting on the floor was a crying Jamie. I dropped the letter and knelt down beside her shaking body. I was in a panic. What had happened.
“Jamie? Jamie are you alright?” I asked repeatedly. I tried to open up her arms from her torso but she was closed in tightly like an oyster. “Jamie, please tell me what’s happening?”
She lifted her head up to look me in the eyes printed on her face was black transparent tears and red eyes. She was about to speak then…
A searing pain eased its way fast into my cheekbone to my eye. I was knocked to my side but I spat out blood from my gums before I turned to see who it was. His name was Kevin Halle.
“What the fuck do you think gives you the right to touch my little fucking bitch here?” he asked mockingly and proudly with confidence. I turned to Jamie. She looked ashamed and she cried more into her arms.
This couldn’t be happening.
Kevin turned to Jamie, gripped her upper arm and dragged and shoved her into the Study Hall Room. Which was empty.
She wasn’t here to study. I turned to the hard tile floor, cursed, then sprouted to my feet taking hold of the door and knocked it open wider.
“What the fuck is your problem dude?” Kevin asked. “If you want some, you gotta pay.”
I looked at Jamie. She was fixing herself from being pushed against table in the room; blood dotted her bottom lip and chin. Her face looked dirty and defeated.
“C’mon, you’re wasting my time.” Kevin began to push me out of the room but I resisted. I wasn’t gonna let this continue. I punched Kevin in his nose and shoved passed him to comfort Jamie. But he grabbed my collar of my black shirt and plopped me onto a table where a large bang it the walls from the movement of the table. Kevin elbowed me in my ribs and I screamed from the agonizing pain that jolted through my system. From the corners of my eyes, before Kevin could punch me out in my face, Jamie leaped on Kevin and yanked on his hair and bit his ear and neck. Her legs wrapped around his torso and her strong fists pounding on his head and shoulder. He grabbed hold of her brown hair, yanked her off him and toppled her onto the table and punched her in her face.
She was barely conscious but she looked like a limp muscle. Kevin held her and carried her out of the room. I tried to follow him out but he closed the door and I kept tripping over my own feet on tables and my vision was blurry. I reached the door yanked it open, twisted my head back and forth looking for anything of Jamie or Kevin. I ran down a clear hallway that was completely white and used for nothing but shortcuts to other classes. I dashed in out of halls and empty rooms. I peeked around corners for anything of the two. I was upstairs again and I passed the guy’s restroom then a loud cry came from inside the restroom.
I ran in, running into Jamie, and we fell out of the restroom but her jeans were off she had on her underwear and her shirt was half taken off with her purple bra in plain sight. I cradled her in my arms immediately before we even hit the tile floor and tried to take her to a nearby teacher or room with someone…anyone at this point. I attempted to take her to the room but then Kevin tripped me and I fell on top of Jamie on the floor. She was in pain and I felt bad for letting her land on the hard dirty floor and I had to land on her, but Kevin gripped me and threw me against some lockers and lifted me to face him eye to eye.
“Listen here you little queer: you leave me and her alone to finish some business she and I have. It’s an agreement we made so don’t make that any different than what it needs to be.” Kevin threatened. I spat in his eye. He punched me in my other eye and let me fall to the ground. He went back for Jamie. Poor, poor, Jamie. Her face was busted and bruised, she was half naked, she was beaten nearly to death she was limp as a noodle. Kevin was pulling her back into the restroom but when she was halfway in an officer came strolling down the hallway and quickly settled the situation before Jamie could suffer more. She told me, the police, and the office that she had let Kevin raped her so he wouldn’t kill her cousin. Her cousin, died shortly after the raped was finished at school but in a different city in a car crash.
Jamie refused to come out of the restroom. I was being held in the nurse’s office where their only medicine is where they have you lay down on a gurney like table. I wanted to clean myself up but Jamie was in the nurse’s restroom. I knocked on the door.
“Leave me fucking alone!” she screamed from the other side of the door.
“It’s me,” I said. “It’s Andy.”
She remained silent.
“Jamie, I just want to see your injuries…” I paused. “I want to make sure you are ok that’s all.”
“I’m not ok!” she shouted. “I’ve been raped ever since that stupid fucking deal with Kevin. I want to fucking die!”
I tried pushing open the door but Jamie was pushing back and yelling, “No, no, no, please Kevin, no more. I can’t take it please.”
She’s having a hard time. She can’t get over the memories of being through rape.
“Jamie, if you let me in…” I promised, “You can explain anything to me. I’m here for you Jamie!”
She loosened up on the pressure she had on the door and I stared at her. She shook, she shivered, she was still half naked but her underwear and bra were still keeping her decent. She stood here in front of me with fists clenched in her palm and tense at her thigh and she stood here with pure anger, rage, and pain stamping her face. “Andy…” her sweet, innocent voice whimpered.
She began stammering breathes and her face cringed in a way that showed pure and exact pain and abuse. She fell to her knees and hid her face from defeat that no matter which what you looked at it, Kevin won.
I knelt down beside her and cradled her in my arms as she wept. To feel her hot tears soak and trickle down my shoulder I couldn’t help but cry with her. To have Jamie go through something she doesn’t deserve it unforgivable. She trembled like an earthquake was inside her heart. She doesn’t need this.
“Andy…” she cried. “This is one of the reasons I am suicidal.” She stammered as she cried. Her voice was weak and barely produced words. “I really like you…a lot…but I have too many problems I don’t want you involved in because you got hurt.”
“Jamie, I can help you through all of this. I want you to understand that because, I have problems too, but we can survive this world if we stick together. That’s how Oscar and I got to where we are so far.”
She wrapped her small, long arms around me and held on tightly to me. I tried to resist kissing her hair or any part of her. No matter how much I wanted to I wouldn’t do it to her if it would hurt her. But it seemed she granted me my wish. She kissed my lips and her tongue melted into mine and we felt connected. We forgot everything and her dainty finger tangled in my black hair, pulling me into her closer, than I have ever been before with any girl and I felt for once, if I died, I would regret it.
After two months of the rape incident, Jamie had been hospitalized for severe depression. I visit her ever day afterschool. I walked to the hospital and when I was about to enter Jamie’s room her doctor forced me out.
“Why the hell not?” I asked him.
“Ms. McMullen is unstable to see any guests right now.” The doctor proclaimed.
“How is she unstable?’ I asked furiously. If Jamie is like this I need to see her immediately.
“Ms. McMullen is in a state of panic that was erupted from her despair in her rape.” He explained.
“Then she needs to see me!” I argue. “I am the only one who can comfort her.”
“Only family and parents are allowed.” The doctor argued back.
“Her family doesn’t give a damn about her. I actually love and care about this girl.” I proudly say to know how I could feel towards Jamie.
The doctor was about to speak but then a loud scream roared from the room. “HELP!”
Jamie screamed out in a prayer in a different language that was unfamiliar to me and the doctor.“Dalla il cupo abisso salvare me per me fama da O’ Signore!” her face soaked in sweat and tears.
“Jamie!” I called to her. “Jamie, I’m here. Jamie. Jamie, Andy Bare is here. Jamie please clam down, I’m here.” I tried to restrain her shoulders from twitching, her heart raced from the monitor that it couldn’t keep up with her. I could see her heart thumping against her chest and her veins rushed through her arms when I grip them.
She stopped flinching and twitching but her heart was still ghastly beating fast. Her face soaked with sweat and tears. Her eyes slowly rolled to my face. “I’m drowning Andy.”
I caressed Jamie’s hair between my fingers while she slept soundly. Her eyes swelling from tears, puffy from the stinging salt, and it felt like there was only water in the core but it won’t squeeze out. I know what it feels like…it happens after you cried for over four hours. Her breaths were steady; the pattern was soothing, it was rarely like this when she slept.
I only desperately and commonly, after my murder, that this is all just I’m just comatose. Hoping I’m snoozing and I’ll wake up in my beaten body in that sewer and hold my Jamie again. But I know this is not true and it will never be true. What’s the only truth is that my murderer got away with murder and he will abuse Jamie. I’m not quite sure if he wants her alive or not.
To think my Jamie is finally sleeping soundly for once it gave me a little peace.
I stayed by her bedside all day and slept in a chair all night to be a guard dog for Jamie. The slightest noise made me jump from my seat, ready to attack anyone who would ever touch her. Then every time I got up, no one was there. I was thankful to know Jamie wasn’t in any harm’s path. Her heartbeat steady and thudding. To watch her in the middle of the night was breathtakingly, epically, and amazingly a dazzle of sweet serenity that was alien to us for many years.
After the hospital everything was almost normal. Jamie said that the whole rape was part of the suicide that consumed her. She refused to tell me what else was hurting her. She was back in school and I was with her constantly; guarding her like a lion over cub. I never let her leave my sight. If I couldn’t see her, I needed to be closer to her. In the halls, in each class, waiting outside the restroom, and walking with her everywhere. She didn’t mind. Jamie encouraged it. This way she knows that with me she will have a fighting chance to avoid anyone. Everyone.
It became such a detailed organized daily agenda that it came so naturally, that we even began going out as a couple. I love to hold her hand. Methodically, we went to each class together and stayed close to one another every second.
We were sitting in homeroom close to the end of school, three more days until freedom of sun, and we were listening to Jamie’s iPod freely in class to waste time and she played ‘Hate Me’ by Blue October. It told us how we must disappoint our parents, but they have disappointed us first but when we follow in their footsteps…we do just utterly disappoint them. Even though Jamie’s folks don’t care about her…what they expect from her is excellence, she has the talent, it is unrecognized. She is an average A/B Honor Roll. But when she is troubled and the things she does, in her parents’ eyes, a disappointment. I see a young thirteen year old girl who is trying to find her place in this rotten world.
She wished everyone who loves her, hates her. For people who hate her, she wishes they would leave her alone.
I caressed her hair around her head as she lay on the pillow asleep. Her brown hair untangled, even as she tossed and turned, and it remained perfect as always. I see her miss me and I hear her cry over me, I feel her slice her torso and wrists and hold that pistol to her head but her finger is safely behind the trigger. I smell her nail polish remover fumes fill and flood her room with toxics that damage her lungs. I taste the salty tears that coolly burn her throat. She is coming undone…and I can’t help her…
I crossed my arms on her bed, burying my head in them and sobbed in front of her sleeping state.
“Jamie….” I whimpered. “Don’t become what I am now. Being dead, doesn’t make it easier.”
Since there is no need for in-betweens to sleep I cried all through the night by Jamie.