Death is Not an Option - 1. Chapter 1

The light is growing. Steadily, inexorably the darkness is receding as the light becomes more and more invasive. Soon it will reach a point where I can no longer deny it. Soon, but not yet. For the moment I can still hold on to the darkness, the memories, the life I knew, the life I still cling to despite it all. I am not ready for the light, I never was but the darkness.... the darkness is what I know, where I belong.

There are voices, away in the distance. They are calling, speaking a name I once knew. Now it means nothing and I am in no hurry to answer the call. This is where I belong, here in the darkness, the darkness of my soul.

The voices are coming closer. As much as I try to stay in the darkness, to hold on to the shreds of a life that, poor as it was, is all I know, I can’t stop it, can’t hide from it, can’t deny it.

“Isaac.”

No! This is not right. This light is... it is... it is all wrong. This is not moving on, this is going back and I can’t go back. I won’t go back. There is no going back only... only...

“Come on Isaac, open your eyes sweetheart. I know you can hear me.”

I don’t want to. I don’t want to open my eyes. I don’t want to ever open my eyes again. This was not supposed to happen; this is not what I want. It is desperate now. I am desperate. My hold on the darkness is slipping and the light is stronger, like the sounds, the sounds that are beginning to invade my consciousness. They are all around me now. Ordinary sounds. People moving about, breathing, speaking quietly to each other and to me.

“Isaac? Come on. You can do it. I know you can do it.”

No. No I can’t. I can’t do it. I can’t. Not any more. I don’t want to. I didn’t want this. I tried so hard. It was so hard and all for nothing. I feel the tears slide down my face and I turn my head away from the voice, from everything it represents.

Something touches my face and I am so startled I open my eyes. I see a hand. It is a woman’s hand, long fingers, a white cuff. She turns my head so I am looking up into a face. It is a nice face. It is smiling at me and yet I am afraid of it. So afraid I am frozen, cannot speak, cannot bear the pain.

“There you are. You have such beautiful eyes Isaac, I am so glad to see them. I was beginning to think you were never going to come back to us.”

If I had my way I wouldn’t have. It’s not as if I wanted to, as if I hadn’t tried..... The hand wipes away my tears but there are plenty more, an ocean full, a soul full.

“Don’t cry Isaac. You’re safe now. It’s alright. You’re going to be alright.”

Alright? No. It’s not alright. Could she have said anything more stupid? Do I look alright? Do I look as if I could ever be alright? None of this is right. This is all wrong. This is not what I want, not what I ever wanted. I don’t want to be here. I shouldn’t be here. I tried so hard not to be here.

I have a headache, a pounding pain caused by the light, by the pain inside. I try to raise my hand to my head but I can’t. Of course not. I should have expected it. It’s not as if they are going to let me get away again.

The hand strokes my hair. In another place, another time it would have felt good.... soothing, but I am in no mood, no place to be soothed. This is all wrong. This is not what I want.

“I know it's hard honey. I know this is not what you wanted but we can help you. You don’t believe that right now, I am sure. You don’t believe that anyone can help you but that’s not true. There is always an answer, always a way, and life is too precious to throw away. Nothing is so bad it’s worth dying for.”

I almost laugh at that. What does she know? About life? About death? I close my eyes. There is nothing else I can do. It is too painful to look at the light any more, to know that I have failed, that after all the pain, the fear, the hard work, I have failed.... again. That pain is so much worse that the pain in my head. I want the darkness. I want the pain to stop.

“Alright. I understand. I know you don’t want to talk right now. That’s okay. Why don’t you rest now? We’ll take care of you. You have nothing to worry about. Someone will come and talk to you later, when you are feeling better.”

Time... time heals everything. Yeah right. Not me. ‘When I am feeling better’? That’s never then.

The hand withdraws. The woman is bending over me, I can feel her, feel her breathing, feel her concern. Well fuck that. She doesn’t know me. She doesn’t know anything about me. Her concern is for who she thinks I am. She doesn’t know.... she just doesn’t know.

And then she is gone and I know that I am alone. I have always been alone. The tears begin again and once they start I cannot stop them. I weep bitter tears, tears that scour my soul and leave me empty and cold.

Finally the tears end and I am still here, still under the glare of the lights, still far away from the darkness. And now I am beginning to realise that I am staying, whether I want it or not this is the way it is and they are not going to let me go again.

Someone comes into the room. I hear the door open and close. I sense the presence but they don’t say anything. I can feel them looking at me. People are always looking at me. I am used to it. Used to all the expressions. Wonder, anger, fear, hate.... and pity. I don’t want to find out which. I don’t want to know.

I am in pain. Not just on the inside. The tears have wiped away the last shreds of darkness and I am fully awake now, aware of every part of me and almost every part hurts. I am acutely uncomfortable but I can't move to ease the discomfort because I am bound, restrained. My arms hurt. My head hurts. My back hurts. Most of all my heart hurts... but that is a different kind of pain.

I try to move, to ease the stiffness in my back, the pressure on the bottom of my spine and I groan aloud. I didn’t mean to, it just came out.

“Are you awake?”

The voice surprises me and I open my eyes. It is a child, a little boy of about seven or eight. He looks like an angel with wide blue eyes and curly yellow hair. Of all the expressions I had expected to see on the face that watched me I hadn’t expected wide eyed curiosity. He has his head tilted to one side watching me as if I am some kind of curious creature... which, perhaps I am.

“Wow. Did you know you have weird eyes? I have never seen anyone with black eyes before.” He peers closely at me. “Only they are not black are they, not completely. They are not as black as the little hole in the middle but you can only see that when you look really, really closely.” He smiles, a bright grin that startles me. “They don’t like it when I come in here but I like to watch you because you are so pretty, like me. I have been coming every day, until they throw me out. They thought you might die. But you’re not, are you? You’re not going to die because you’re awake now. When they wake up they don’t die.”

I shake my head. I can’t help it. The blue eyes are so sincere, the piping voice so matter of fact. No. I am not going to die, not now. At the thought the tears come again. The little boy walks closer and touches my face, one finger tracing the tracks of the tears.

“Why are you crying? Are you sad that you are not going to die? Why are you sad about that? Why do you have bars on your bed? Why have they tied you up? No one else gets tied up. I don’t get tied up and sometimes the nurses say that I ought to be.... that’s because I won’t stay in my room. I think they are joking though. I have been here for a long time. Well.... four days. That is a long time. I have to stay for a whole week, maybe more. I had to have an operation. Are you going to have an operation?”

He pauses for breath and I shake my head again. I don’t know what else to do.

“My name is Jaden. What’s yours?”

I frown. I don’t want to speak. I didn’t think I would ever speak again, ever hear the sound of my own voice. But there is something compelling about him, something that can’t be denied.

“Isaac.”

My voice is husky, as if it has somehow grown rusty.

“Isaac? That’s a funny name.”

“Is it?”

“Why are you crying Isaac? Do you hurt? Shall I ask a nurse to give you medicine to make the hurt go away?”

That makes me smile. If only there was a medicine to make this hurt go away. “No.”

“Are you sad then? Is that why you are crying?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you sad?”

I shake my head. That question is too hard to answer.

“Shall I tell you a joke? When I am sad my Daddy tells me a joke and it makes me smile and then I’m not sad any more. I know some good ones.”

I shake my head again. I really am not in the mood for jokes.

“Are you sure? I really do know some good ones.”

“No Jaden. I don’t want to hear any jokes. Isn’t there somewhere you need to be?”

“No. I am supposed to stay in my room but it is boring in there when Mammy and Daddy are not here. I have been all over. There are lots of interesting things and some people are nice. Some of them talk to me. But I like it here best.”

“You do? Why?”

“Because I like you.”

“You....like me? But you don’t know me.”

“I like looking at you because you are pretty.”

“Oh.” What am I supposed to say to that?

“The nurses think so too. I heard them. They talk about you all the time.”

“They do?” I wish I was interested enough to care what they say.

“They touch you all the time. They don’t do that to anyone else. One of the kissed you once.”

“What?!!”

“Only your hair... and sometimes your face, when you were asleep. They looked kind of sad. I think that was when they thought you were going to die. They don’t look so sad any more.”

Lucky them. I don’t know how I feel about the thought of someone touching me while I sleep, even if it is only on the hair. It creeps me out.

The kid is fingering the straps again. He has a one track mind.

“Why do you have these? No one else has these, I’ve looked. Are they afraid you are going to run away?”

Why do I find that so funny? I grin. I can’t help myself. I suppose I did try to run away.

“You look nice when you smile.” He is frowning at me thoughtfully. “It makes your eyes go crinkly in the corners. You have pretty eyes.”

“Yeah. Okay. Don’t you need to go now?”

“No, not until someone comes looking for me. I told you...it’s boring in my room.”

Yeah and it’s a bundle of laughs here.

“So would you?”

“Would I what?”

“Run away?”

“Yes.”

“Why? It’s not so bad here. The food isn’t so good but everyone is nice to you and the doctors try to make you laugh when you’re not feeling so good.” He beams. “And you don’t have to go to school.”

“I don’t go to school anyway.”

“Don’t you? Why not?”

“Because I’ve finished school. I’m a grown up.”

“Are you? You don’t look that old.”

“Well I am.”

“How old are you? You’re not.... like forty or anything. I’m nearly nine.”

“I’m nineteen, almost twenty.”

“Wow, that is old.”

“Sometimes it feels like it.”

“Why are you running away?” I can see that this is really puzzling him but I have absolutely no intention of even trying to explain. “If you are a grown up you can do anything you want.”

If only. “No, Jaden, no you can’t.”

Jaden nods sagely. “My mother says it’s no picnic... with having to work and pay the bills, but my grandmother says it's all about choices. If you make the right ones soon enough you won’t have to worry about that. I don’t think that nineteen, or even twenty, is too late.”

“Oh yes it is.”

“But you don’t have to listen to anyone. You can do what you want. You can go to bed when you like and eat as many sweets as you want. You’re free.”

“No.... I can’t... I.... I... I’m not free.”

“Everyone is free, my grandmother says so. She says that the only chains are the ones we put on ourselves.”

“Not always.”

He peers at me. “Your voice went all funny when you said that.... my Dad does that sometimes. He says it’s when he is thinking about things I don’t understand... grown up things. Are you thinking about grown up things?”

“Yes. Very grown up things.”

“What things?”

“You don’t want to know kid.”

“Yes I do. I want to know everything.”

Yeah... too bloody right you do. Oh well. “I wasn’t free Jaden. I was in prison.”

If I was expecting that to phase him I am disappointed. His eyes go huge and round. He seems delighted.

“Wow. Are you a real criminal? Did you kill someone?”

“I tried to.”

“Cool....who?”

“Me.”

“You? That was pretty silly wasn’t it? What did you do that for?”

“Because.....” I sigh. I have no intention of discussing this with him no matter what. Fortunately his quicksilver mind moves on very quickly.

“Was that why you were put in prison? Because you tried to kill yourself?”

“No.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing. I didn’t do anything.”

“You must have done something. They don’t put you in jail unless you have done something bad, really bad.”

“I trusted someone Jaden. I trusted someone who let me down.”

“Was it a friend?”

“It was more than a friend. It was.... it was..... everything.”

“Did they tell lies to get you into trouble?” His questioning is making my head hurt and leading my mind down paths I do not want to tread, paths I will never want to travel. I am not going to go into that with him. The very thought makes me soooo tired. I close my eyes hoping he will go away. He doesn’t. After a while he touches my arm, fingering the stiff white bandages.

“Did you do this?”

“Yes.”

“Wow. I’ve never met anyone who tried to kill themselves. Did you slash your wrists?” He says it with relish, like it was something exciting.

“No...” It is on the tip of my tongue to explain to him that there is little point, if you are really serious and in a hurry, in slashing your wrists. For one thing it severs the tendons so you would only ever be able to do one, after which the fingers on that hand wouldn’t work, for another you bleed too slowly and for another it is too easy to repair. No, if you’re serious you open up the whole vein, all the way up the arm and, if all you have to do it with is a sliver of glass then it’s more like shredding it. The glass gets slippery with the blood and you feel faint from the pain long before the blood loss gets you.

Fortunately it occurs to me, before I open my mouth, that it would be singularly inappropriate to say such things to an eight year old, so I keep silent.

“Did you cut your arm then?”

“Yes.”

“Cool. There must have been loads of blood.” Again he says it as if it is exciting; he’s a bloodthirsty little beast. Actually there was a lot of blood, more than I had been expecting. It scared me at first...the pain and the blood, until I realised how ridiculous that was. I wanted to die after all didn’t I?

“Yes.”

“Don’t worry, they put it all back in.”

“What?” I open my eyes and look at him. He has that sincere, eager expression on his face again. For some strange reason I have visions of plastic spades and funnels.

“It was gross. The blood was in plastic bags and they were all squidgy. I wasn’t supposed to touch them but I did.”

“Of course you did.”

“They hung them up there with those ones and the blood made the tubes go all red. It was gross.” He said the word ‘gross’ with a grin on his face and shining eyes. “They couldn’t put tubes in that arm, the one you hurt so they stuck in your leg but they wouldn’t let me look.”

“Thank God for that.”

He frowns at me, then smiles. “In the beginning they wouldn’t let me come in here much at all. I had to peep through the window and it was hard because I am so short. There was someone in here all the time. I suppose they were waiting for you to die.”

“Thanks for that.”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

“Does it hurt? Your arm?”

“Yes, it hurts.”

“You have needles sticking in you, do they hurt too?”

“No... they don’t hurt.” I think about it. There is a gnawing ache in my groin... the words ‘femoral artery’ pop into my head from nowhere. He said they stuck it in my leg and I am gladder than ever they didn’t let him watch. “Mostly they don’t.”

“Will you have to go back to jail when they let you out of here?”

“I expect so.”

“Is it terrible?”

“No, not terrible, just......” Just what? Just boring, just demeaning, just terrifying, just bloody unfair... so completely, utterly, traitorously unfair. They took away more than my liberty when they locked me in there. ‘Keep strong Isaac. Justice will prevail. If you are innocent nothing can hurt you, nothing can touch you. Keep faith. The truth will always come out.’ Yeah right. The only thing my innocence got me was..... trouble. Of course, at the time I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything. I was already half dead....at least on the inside.

Suddenly I am tired. Overwhelmingly weary. Jaden is still speaking, chattering on and I close my eyes letting his words wash over me. I am too tired now to listen to them, to even try to respond. A small hand touches my arm and it makes me jump. I have to force my eyelids apart. Jaden is not smiling.

“Are you going to sleep now? Will you wake up again? I hope you do.”

Despite myself I smile. The golden hair, the blue eyes blur and merge and then fade, the words receding as the darkness gathers. At last the darkness I have craved for claims me. I am only sorry that it is temporary and that soon it will release me again.

Because it is only the darkness of sleep and not of death it is filled with dreams. My sleep has always been filled with dreams, now they are dreams of pain and sorrow and fear. They say that dreams are a reflection of waking life, that they hold messages that help you make sense of your life, balance the good and the bad, learn to manage, to cope. My dreams are filled with nothing but darkness.

This time my dreams are filled with more than darkness. They are not black, they are red.