Folder X - 5. Chapter 5

I legitimately cried ugly the final block to my house. I mean, what was the point anymore. Jonah said those words to me. He was the only thing in my life that brought the sunshine to school. Mom tried her best, but I worried she'd get too upset.

Entering the house, I kicked off my shoes at the bottom of the stairs, then dropped my backpack by the newel post. I sat for a few minutes looking at my wounds, wondering if they'd get infected, then I began to pick at the scrapes with my fingernail until I opened up a large slit. Somehow the pain seemed nice. I couldn't be sure if that was normal or not?

After some consideration, I made my way to the sink and let cool water wash over my cuts. I watched the blood clear away, leaving me with some raw-looking skin. Carefully drying my palms, trying not to cause further pain, I climbed the stairs to my room and shut the door. Everything was worthless and numb, and I just wanted the bullying to end. I should've talked to someone, but why would they want to listen?

I sat down at my computer for a while; I looked at the pictures of Jonah, feeling sorry for myself. Yet, a pang of anger overcame me, and I deleted all the files I had collected and cried for a long time. I didn't want to take any more of this shitty life, and now with Jonah turning on me, I figured it must be done. I thought about it many times, considered it too, but now it was time for action.

Opening my closet, I pulled some clothes out and placed them on the bed; the hangers clattered as I did. I stared at the steel bar crossing from wall to wall, how a gap opened up in the middle, but either side still held the remainder of my clothes. Grabbing my step-stool, I placed it under the bar, then stepping into the darkness, I grabbed hold of the pole and swung from it to see if it was strong enough to take all my weight. Happy that it could do the job, I hopped off the stool, went to my dresser, and pulled open the drawer. I grabbed hold of my canvas belt and sat on the bed for a while, looking at my closet, contemplating whether I should take the next step. I didn't want to be doing it when mom was here, so I decided now was the time.

Doing up the belt, I closed a loop and left some slack; next, I made my way to the closet. I tied it to the support bar with the end of the belt and then climbed up onto the step. Reaching forward, I grab hold of the belt and place it over my head. I hesitated for a while, figuring this was too much.

'What would they think of me when they heard the news?'

'Would they cry for me?'

Probably not.

'Or maybe they would feel guilty?'

Drawing the belt tighter, it closed around my neck, already restricting my breathing. I don't want to do anything anymore; I just want it to all go quiet. I had to practically taunt myself to just go through with it, or I'd always be known as that coward who could not do anything.

Psyching myself up, I took the step; the world around me dropped quick and heavy. The belt cracked, and my full body weight made it go taut. At first, it felt funny, almost like a game, my toes brushing the floor, but then it became impossible to take a breath. I dug my fingers in around my neck, attempting to lift myself, with my toes seeking to gain some footing.

The alarm set in; I wanted out.

I changed my mind, but all I managed to do was jolt around. I tried swallowing the excess saliva that built up, and when that didn't work, I choked for air.

I felt like I was drowning.

I was afraid.

I was dizzy too.

I wanted to stop, so I searched for the footstool, but I noticed that it had moved out past the door. I kicked for it, my socked foot hitting the door in the process. The belt hurt; I wanted it off so bad that I clawed at it, all to no avail. Somehow, I began to lose the power of my arms, and it felt like my head wanted to burst.

Everything was getting blurry; I think tears were coming out of my eyes. The front of my head throbbed; I got to see white. It felt like all those times when I hung upside down from the bed as a child.

'Was this heaven?'

‘I didn't want to go… not now.’

‘Not yet.’

A picture of my mom flashed before my eyes; she held me in her arms, kissed me on the forehead, and told… it's Okay.

Then the world around me collapsed, and hitting the floor didn’t hurt like it ought to have done. The once-tight noose that had been clinging to my neck was slack, and through bleary eyes, I coughed and choked while removing the belt. The smell of dust was inherently strong from the beige carpet, but I didn’t have the energy to move. I stopped trying to clean up all the snot and tears, as by now, it seeped from everywhere. The picture of seeing my mother all sad and alone haunted me, and it made me realize as I lay there, I should just tell her how I am feeling. Killing myself doesn’t exactly fix the problem; it means the bullies get away with it, and they should never win.

A fit of coughing took hold of me, and my throat tingled with tenderness from my stupid decision to hang myself. Seeing the world while lying on the floor made me realize that maybe it wasn’t my time. I checked the pole in the wardrobe before I tried to do anything, but it had broken. If that is not a sign of not going through it, then I don’t know what else could compete. I held my hands to my throat, attempting to soothe the discomfort caused by the belt. I wondered how I’d tell mom when she got home what I tried to do. She’s my mom. She wouldn’t be too mad; in the very least, she'll just be upset. I could have told lots of people about the bullying—the teacher from my social studies class, my neighbor Mr. Orbe, some police officer. Hell, there are plenty of helplines to call too, but it felt like I was the only one who was experiencing this tragedy when I think about it now. I mean, if they have support for such matters, then other people must feel like this sometimes, and it must be normal, and everyone can get past the sadness with some help.

I lay for a while longer until a knock at the door, followed by the chime from the bell, echoed throughout the house. There was silence, but I turned onto my side and caught sight of all the dust bunnies under my dresser. The doorbell called out again; this time, the person was a little more persistent, holding the buzzer down until it started to agitate me. I struggled up on my arm and legs, hunched like a dog, but I hadn’t got the energy to stand up. The ringing stopped, and I tried again to gain some traction, and this time, I managed to clamber up, knocking into the wall in the process. I got lightheaded momentarily but stabled my footing. Feeling confident, I exited out onto the landing area, and slowly made my way down the stairs, holding my sensitive throat. The ringing from the door tolled out through the rooms, and I hurried for the door. I made an effort to let the person know I was coming, but my throat was raw, so I had difficulty speaking.

“I… I’m coming…” I croaked.

The ringing preceded. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror at the bottom of the stairs; my neck was all reddened, it made me feel ashamed. Except, the ringing stopped, so I looked to the door, finding somebody compressed against the beveled window with their hands at the eyes to make out anybody inside.

“I see you… Hello…” I voiced carried out.

"Jonah..." I said aloud.

"Yeah..." the voice called back.

The tonality scared me, so I hobbled across the foyer to the wall opposite to escape the prying eyes. It sounded like Jonah outside, but I couldn’t believe that he had never talked to me before, and the first time he actually saw me, he told me to run away, calling me a faggot. It raised more questions, like how would he know where my house was among thousands of other families. I pressed up against the wall in a panic that I knocked a picture from it, and it hit the ground sending the glass from the frame discharging across the floor.

“Are you okay…” Jonah called out.

Referring to what part of being okay?

I slid down the wall, feeling tired again, but Jonah didn’t seem to move away from the front porch.

“Wha… Wa… What do you want?” I croaked.

“I came to check on you…” Jonah said.

His shadow moved from the doors center window to the long-beveled strip by me, and he peered inside. I looked up; I wanted to move, but I didn’t have the power.

'Had I heard, right? Jonah came to check if I was okay.'

After what he did, he told Dallas about me being gay, always watching the bullying, and not doing anything. Just, he did intervene today in a way I never saw before, even after all these years.

There was silence, and a few seconds passed of uneasy solitude.

“I… I reported Dallas… about the bullying,” Jonah mumbled.

I peered up at the glass window; I asked, “you did?”

“Yeah…” Jonah mumbled.

“Why now…?” I groaned, gritting my teeth.

Jonah sat down by the beveled window, peered ahead, and I scooched closer.

“Because I’m done being friends with someone who’s like that…” Jonah added.

“Why did you tell him...” I asked.

“Tell him about what?” Jonah said.

“The bathroom thing...” I mumbled.

“I didn’t... I swear,” Jonah added.

I coughed again, and Jonah looked at the window; I peered across, feeling shy.

“Are you okay in there?” Jonah added.

I didn’t know what to say, I couldn’t tell him what I tried to do, but I didn’t want to be alone. So, I lifted my hands and looked at the scratches from the fall earlier. It already seemed so long ago, but at the same time, I felt like something new was happening. There was a little bit of hope for the first time in years, and my heart warmed… it was better than Jonah’s dance videos.

“Will you sit with me until my mom gets home,” I said, stifling a sniffle.

Jonah peered back at the long window dividing us, and although I could only make out his silhouette, it felt good to have him listening.

I sighed, peered ahead, and from outside, I heard him shuffling, getting comfortable.

Jonah said, “Sure.”

***

Spring had arrived, and the merry chirps of blue jay’s carried through the pavilion. There were folks everywhere; people walking, people jogging. Kids riding trikes, some guy walking his dog, and a woman breastfeeding a baby. I never really noticed all the life around me before, but there was lots of it. In color, watching people is gratifying. I would have missed it all?

“Matt!” Jonah called.

I turned, squinting with the afternoon sun in my eyes. I stared down the green lawn, making out his shape.

“You ready,” Jonah shouted.

I smiled for the first time in a long time. I just had my first session of therapy, and it felt good to talk about things with somebody else for a change. Dallas got expelled from school after the full extent of what happened came to the surface. I’m not sure where he is now, but he dropped out of school and went someplace else. I never heard from him again. The principal lost her job at the junior high and is on some probationary period for a new school. The other boys of Dallas’s posse got suspended for a while, but when things went back to normal, they kept their distance, and I am happy. Jonah even got in trouble a little bit, but he didn’t get mad at me. He even stayed with me that day until my mom got home from work. Jonah admitted that he was a bit scared of the person Dallas had become, and that’s the reason why he decided to change. True to his word, Jonah promised to turn up and play frisbee, and here we were, the two of us playing frisbee. Jonah raised his arm, preparing to throw the disk; my mom was sitting on a bench reading a book, and the sun was glorious.

“Ready…” Jonah yelled and threw the frisbee without warning.

I ran, cutting through the grass, with my hair bobbing with every step and my heart singing in my chest. With one final jump, I caught the flying disk and smirked back at Jonah. His smile broke through the obscured beam of sunlight. It made me feel all tingly inside, but what mattered was that things were looking up, and with that, I scrambled forward and hurled the freebie on its way. I watched it soar, how it traveled unrestrainedly and for once in my life, I felt like that flying frisbee. Free.

The End.