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“Help.”
How did this happen? Why did this happen? Why did he do this?
“Help.”
He’d been doing so good. So, so good. He’d been getting better at controlling his new little quirks and ticks. Getting better at talking about the things that bothered him. Getting better at really listening to the real voices around him. Getting better at being a better friend.
“P-please help.”
Today was a good day. He’d been having more good days. He’d slept last night. He’d been able to stomach his food. He hadn’t picked at his skin. He’d made Christine proud by getting all his lines right at play rehearsal. He’d made all his friends laugh at lunch. He’d made Michael smile right before his big test today. He’d even agreed to hang out with all his friends after school.
He’d been happy. He’d been having a good day.
How did it all go so wrong?
“S-someone, please.”
There’s so much. So, so much. He chokes, gasps. His vision blurs. His stomach turns. He feels like he’s going to be sick. He doesn’t want to be. He’s already been sick so much these past couple months. The doctors don’t completely understand why. They keep giving him new pills to try. He hates those pills.
Michael says it’s the food. That sometimes food is hard, and that’s okay. They just have to keep trying. Try new things. Old things. All types of things.
He doesn’t deserve a friend like Michael.
“H-help, please.”
His vision blurs more and more as he presses down on the spot. He doesn’t feel pain. This worries him more, because there’s so much red. Red, and red, and lots of red. Never ending red. He needs to stop it. He doesn’t know how.
“P-please, someone! Help!”
He screams, gasps, and screams some more. He doesn’t know what else to do. He didn’t mean to do this!
“JEREMY!”
There’s a loud bang.
“Shit!”
It takes him a second to realize there are hands touching him. Hands that aren’t his. Nice hands. Warm hands.
Safe hands.
He feels his own hand being pulled away and blue fills his vision. Soft, soft blue.
“It’s okay Jeremy. It’s okay. Come on buddy. Come on.”
He moves. He follows. He cries and shakes as soft hands guide him. Through his tears he sees a new red. Good red. Michael red.
“Come on Jer. I got you.”
“Holy shit dude! What happened?”
He’s pushed down. Down, down. He feels Michael let go, and another set of hands grip onto his arm. They hold the blue tight. They aren’t as nice, but he trusts these hands too. Then Michaels back. Sliding in next to him and reaching to hold the blue as well.
He likes this more.
“Just drive, okay!”
They start moving. Moving, moving, moving. His vision still blurs. His stomach still turns, but he feels safe now. Safe, safe, safe.
“Michael, man. He needs-”
“I know, okay! Just… we just need to try harder.”
“Their going to ask questions.”
“I know… I’m not letting them take him though. He just needs some stitches and we’ll go from there.”
“I-I’m sorry.”
It takes him a second to realize he’s the one that spoke.
“It’s okay, Jeremy. We’re going to get you stitched up, and everything’s going to be a-okay.”
“I didn’t mean too.”
“Then why did you,” the person next to him asks. It’s soft. Female. Good.
“I… I needed to make the voice stop.”
And now he remembers. Today had been so good and then the voice. That stupid, bad voice.
“I needed to make him stop. Today was a good day. I didn’t mean to do this. I don’t want this.”
He looks to Michael.
“Today was a good day.”
He can make out Michael’s face now. He’s giving Jeremy his ‘I’m-extremely-worried- about-you-and-a-little-terrified smile.’ He’s been giving Jeremy that smile a lot lately.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay, Jeremy. We’ll just… we’ll just have to make tomorrow an even better day. All of it. From start to finish.”
He nods. He presses himself to Michael’s side. Voices circle around him. Good voices. Kind hands grip tight to his arm. Kind, safe hands.
They just need to make tomorrow better. From start to finish.
He shuts his eyes.
They just need to make tomorrow better.