The Secret Life of Billy Chase - 31. Chapter 31

- What's normal anymore? I mean...what am I supposed to do? Am I supposed to just...'go back to my life' now? Am I supposed to just do homework and eat lunch and watch mindless comedies on television? How can I do that knowing that Jimmy might not be alive right now? How can I do that knowing that he'd rather die than spend one more day living in the pain that we caused him?

The thoughts of him hurting himself played over and over and OVER again in my mind. Actually cutting himself in front of the bathroom mirror.........I can't stop it. I can't push the idea out of my head. It's so scary...trying to picture him there in what might have been his last moments...finding no more reason to stay here with the rest of us. How bad does it have to get? How much does life have to hurt before you're willing to go to that extreme? He must have felt like he didn't have a friend in the world that he could really trust. He must have been utterly alone. I just can't seem to concentrate on much of anything else other than the deadly movemets of that razor blade. How could I?

I wish I could have been there! I wish I could have SEEN it coming!!! There were signs in everything he did, in everything he SAID! Why couldn't I SEE it?!?!?! Why didn't I...'hug' him more often, or talk to him more...or send him a friendly smile after seeing him crying in that bathroom mirror at school? Why didn't I care more when I had the chance?!?!?! I was supposed to be his fucking FRIEND!!!! He was COUNTING on me to be there for him! I'm 'the boy that came to rescue him'...isn't that how he put it? So why did I fail? Why did I fail so miserably? He wouldn't be in the hospital right now if it wasn't for me. If I could have just spent a LITTLE more time being a friend to him, paying attention to him, laughing with him...instead of all the other meaningless bullshit that I've been concerning myself with lately...I could have made a difference. I could have saved him. Instead, all I cared about was getting laid, or being with AJ, or screwing up things with Simon, or making out with Joanna. All that time....I was wrapped up in being 'happy' and free, 'doing my own thing'...and Jimmy was really hurting. He was hurting so badly that he cut himself to escape. He was willing to die just to stop the emptiness from swallowing him whole. It's just a tough concept to deal with.

Jimmy left a note behind. An entire letter, in fact. How the kids in school found out about it, I'll never know, but word spreads like a cancer in this school. Even faster when it's bad news. Evidently, he told his mom everything. From him being gay, to being teased and beaten up all the time for NO reason, to just not wanting to live through that pain for one more day. He talked about how it feels to not have any real friends, how it feels to be ignored by so many people. He talked about how much it hurts to not ever see the possibility of being happy, of never finding love, of not being able to trust anyone to ever truly care about him, of being a total disappointment to his family, to the school, to the world in general, in every possible way. And...he talked about the inevitability of suicide in a life full of so much emotional abuse at the hands of people he trusted. People that seemed to simply 'not care' anymore. In that note, what he thought would be his 'final' goodbye, he released an entire lifetime worth of pain...with the hopes that when it was all written down, when his heart was empty of all the pain he had suffered, when the world knew his story...he could rest in peace.

At LAST...he could rest in peace. In a place where the pain couldn't follow.

The kids in school knew it all, and the way they talked about the details...I almost wished that Jimmy hadn't survive it. Because it's going to be SO hard for him to come back now. So hard.

I didn't want to see or talk to anybody today. I didn't want to interact. Today's entry in this book is the most I've said all day. I was destroyed inside, and it was killing me to know that I was probably just as responsible for his pain as anybody else here. When I walked down that hall, I felt like I was walking amongst a gang of killers and torturers. What's worse, I felt I belonged there.

Sam was feeling it too. I could tell. He hardly spoke at all through lunch, and just pretty much stared off into nothing for the entire lunch hour. Under normal circumstances, I would have turned backflips to help him feel better. But I didn't, not today. Why should I? He was one of the ones who drove Jimmy to do this. HE'S partly responsible. When I think of all the mean things he did to him, all the mean things he SAID about him...it's disgusting! All the times he just shrugged his shoulders and figured that it was no big deal that a human being was home at night crying!!! Living alone, and hurt, and without a stable foundation to stand on! Hell NO, I didn't cheer him up! I didn't want to spare him a moment of that grief! I didn't want him feeling like it wasn't his fault, because if he wasn't such a heartless, selfish, mean spirited asshole towards Jimmy...he might have had a reason to stay alive another day. He might have been able to draw strength from the people who were supposed to embrace him. He didn't have to be his best friend, or his fuck buddy, or even a familiar acquaintance! All he had to do was show him the kind of love and respect that he deserved....just by being HUMAN! What the fuck is WRONG with people anyway??? How the fuck can someone live with the knowledge that all it would have taken was a moment of kindness, a smile, a simple 'hello' once in a while...to have saved his fucking LIFE?!?!?!

Well GOOD! He should suffer through this! I am!

I'm crying now! I'm gonna go before I get angry. I just don't know what to do. I wouldn't know HOW to do it if I did. I'm just....I'm just....forget it. I'm going to bed. Later.

-Billy

- There seems to be a giant hole in my day when I go to school now. I never noticed it before. I wonder why I just never paid attention to it before. There are parts of my day when Jimmy would make a certain lame joke, and chuckle a bit with a little snort. There was a time when I'd see him in the lunchline, and he'd always reach for milk instead of a soda or a juice. Then he'd walk to a table by himself, and arrange his food in a 'fashionable' way, and then he'd eat. There was even a time or two when I walked into the bathroom and almost expected to see him in there. All of these little details that I took for granted are now suddenly in the front of my mind. Jimmy was actually an integral part of this place, and whenever I expect to see or hear him, and I don't, it dawns on me....he's really not here anymore. Is that strange or what?

I decided that I want to see him. I have to go. I'm sure I can find out what hospital he's in and then try to ride over on the bus. I have no idea what I'll say to him or what I can possibly do to help...but I'll find a way to figure it out. I just....I wanna be there for him, you know? If he's ever needed me, it was now. I won't let him down again. I can't.

I had a bit of an outburst in between classes today. It seemed to come out of nowhere, and I was so angry that it burned out of control before I had a chance to get a hold on it. It was all because I was walking down the hall, quietly, solemnly....and you wanna know something? I saw some kids laughing and joking around during passing period, and it turned my stomach. They were 'really' having fun! FUN!!! Are you fucking KIDDING me??? These were kids from my class, kids that saw Jimmy each and every day! Smiling and laughing and actually going on as though nothing had happened. As though NOTHING was WRONG! I was SOOOO mad! I wanted to KILL them! I wanted to choke the living SHIT out of them! What the FUCK was there to be happy about??? How could they NOT be feeling this rusted lump of despair inside? They didn't care, that's how. They honestly didn't give a shit. And as much as I had missed Jimmy....he was basically forgotten by just about everybody the second he was no longer standing right in front of them. I nearly put my fist through my own locker, and kicked hard, shooting daggers at them as I walked passed. People were looking at me as if *I* was crazy. I swear...I don't think I've ever seen anything more despicable.

Am I the only one who cares? Am I the only one who truly saw Jimmy as a person and not some punching bag that they could push around without consequences? Am I expecting too much to want the world to just....STOP for a fucking second or two and take NOTICE of the fact that a beautiful person like Jimmy was 'missing' from our fucked up monotonous routine??? Can the world just acknowledge his pain for a minute??? Or is that too much of an 'effort'? Well I'M making the effort! I care!

This is so heartbreaking! What happens when *I* finally die? Will people even give a shit then?

Everywhere I look, I see people going on with their lives and leaving the idea of that poor kid behind them. It's just...wrong, you know? I wish I could do something to prove that he was somebody special. That he DID have value. Maybe I'm just being stupid. They didn't care before, why would they want to care now?

The most normal part of my day was seeing Brandon, who seemed to be one of the few people shaken up by the idea of Jimmy attempting suicide. The cool thing is, Brandon didn't even KNOW Jimmy really. He knew who he was, and might have spoken to him once or twice, but that was as far as it went. Brandon told me how weird it felt to know what happened to him, and just wanted him to be ok. He didn't owe Jimmy any tribute, he had never been to his house, he wasn't anywhere near as close to him as I felt....but Brandon cared. He truly gave a damn,and wanted the best for him in his time of need. Out of all the entries in this book, where I talked about Brandon being pretty and beautiful and special...I think that very moment outweighed everything else. His true beauty just really shined through at that moment, and I gave him a hug, trying hard not to cry.

We talked for a bit, and before I left, he asked if he could call me sometime. Just in case I wanted to talk or something. I agreed, but told him to give me a few days. I just...I'm still finding it hard to talk to people right now. I'm not myself today. I'm pretty sure I won't be myself tomorrow either. In fact, I don't know if I'll ever be 'me' again.

I've gotta go. Dammit, I'm cryng again. I'm ALWAYS crying! It hurts sooooo much! I don't think I've ever cried more than I have over the last few days. Nor have I been more angry. I don't know what to think, but it's going to take time. Lots of time.

-Billy

- I ate lunch with Joanna for the first time since Tuesday. Although I wasn't really in the mood to interact a whole lot with anyone else at the table. Especially once Sam showed up. I don't know, I guess I was still feeling that negative shock of energy everytime he came near me. I didn't want to see him smile, not once. Luckily, he kept his jovial nature to a minimum today. No doubt, still feeling badly about what he did. It was disgusting to even look at him, him being an 'accomplice', so I kept my head down for most of the period. Most of the day, actually. And when Joanna took a hold of my arm, leaned her head against me, and started stroking my tummy slowly to comfort me...it really felt good. You know? I really needed that. I needed her to understand, and just....be there. I remember kissing her on the forehead, and allowing myself to melt into the feeling of being held as I continually tried to make sense of the world again.

The school sent a letter home to my parents about the 'incident' (as they called it). Tryng to inform the area of what was going on, and offered sessions with a guidance counselor if neccessary. My mom and dad both called me into the living room tonight, sat me down on the couch, and pulled two chairs from the kitchen to sit across from me and 'talk things out'. It was...WEIRD. I know they were trying to be supportive and trying to make sure that I was ok. I really wanted them to believe that I could handle this....even if I wasn't so sure myself. I know they were doing the 'parent' thing and trying hard to be there for me....but....they just couldn't be. I don't know what it was. I couldn't talk to them, I couldn't relate to them, I certainly couldn't cry in front of them...what could they do for me? Since the day I was born, I've been trying to be the best little boy I could be for them. That was my job. I wanted them to love me, and have faith in me, and trust me to be ok. If I were to break down now...if I let out what I was really feeling...I could never look them in the face again. I'd be a disappointment. A baby. A helpless little wounded puppy that couldn't make it on his own. I don't know....something about talking to your parents about the really deep emotional stuff...it just doesn't work. They've known so much about me for so long...that all I can think about is finally putting up a barrier that will keep them out. I push them away harder than anybody. I HAVE to. They'd know my every secret in a second. And that was cool when my biggest secret was that I accidentally broke the bedroom window with a rock. But I'm 14 now, and my secrets aren't so simple anymore.

Nothing's simple anymore.

So...despite their efforts, all they got was an award winning performance from me, telling them that everything was ok. They hugged me when it was over, and it was comforting to see them not fighting and arguing right then. Who knows? Maybe I was doing something right for a change. I just finished talking to them about ten minutes ago, and I hate to see them look at me as though I were helpless. I'm NOT helpless. I'm just confused, hurt, and a little bit depressed. It happens. I'll be ok. At least...I think I'll be ok.

Right now, I just wanna sleep. So, I'll write more later. Until then, g'night. If it wasn't for this book, I wouldn't have any kind of sanity left at all.

-Billy