Page 32 of Beautifully Broken
“Just let him go. He’ll be back.” Coach says, just as the door to the locker room closes behind me.
***
As soon I enter the front door to my place, the darkness encapsulates me, emanating the mood I’m in. The waves of despair that have threatened to swallow me whole now begin to pull me under— immediately taking my breath away. Rather than fighting it like I normally would, I allow it to happen. I let my feet walk me to my bed and my blanket cover me—without showering or changing.
I couldn’t tell you how long I stayed in the same spot. I know that I stink, that my stomach growls, and that I haven’t seen the sunlight in a while. I know that my phone rings and rings on my nightstand–I dared to check it once, seeing that Enid had called no less than twenty times and texted me double that. I know that the ideas swirling in my head are too dark to share with anyone else.
End it, you have the means. No one will miss you. Your life isn’t worth living anymore. She won’t care if you’re gone.
I attempted to ward them off the first day or two, reminding myself that everything was finally starting to line up. I had the girl, my team wanted to be around me, and even Mace was starting to open up, wanting to spend more time with me. It’s not enough though, that small glimmer of light that sits far off in the distance gets swallowed by the darkness every time.
When the darkness engulfs me this time, though, I find myself in my closet, opening my safe, and pulling out my pistol. Wandering into the kitchen, I pull my whiskey from the cabinet and sit at my bar.I’ve made my choice. I’m sorry.
Chapter 12
Enid
“Has he called you back?” Mace asks me for the fifth time over the past forty-eight hours that Conrad has gone dark on us.
“Not yet,” I do my best to smile at Mace, I’m sure it appears more like a grimace.
“Are you going to go check on him?” Mace asks, his tone filled with apprehensiveness.
“Yes, while you’re at school today,” I assure him as I pull up to the drop-off lane at his school.
“You’ll text me after, right?”
“Of course.” I leave out the part where I say it depends on the state that I find him in. My brain has sent me on a spiral of all the potential options. I could see the signs of depression, his withdrawal, his attitude, but I couldn’t force him to open up to me. I tried so many times when his eyes felt lifeless, his kisses were less passionate, and his skating was slower. This is what scares me the most about showing up at his place today.
“Have a good day at school. Love you.”
“Love ya, Sis,” Mace tells me before exiting the car.
***
As I approach Conrad’s house, his car is here, but it appears that no internal lights are on. My anxiety ratchets, and my hands begin to shake as I turn my car off and walk to his front door.
I bang on the front door three times and wait. No answer. I try again, this time knocking harder, deciding that if he doesn’t answer, I will risk a felony and break into his home.
Just as I’m turning to walk down and grab a rock from his garden, the front door lock clicks and the knob turns. This version of Conrad I’ve never experienced before. His clothes are wrinkled, he looks simultaneously like he has and hasn’t been sleeping, his hair sticking up in all directions, and his skin so pale it’s almost grey.
“Enid?” He asks as if he wasn’t expecting me to just show up.
“You haven’t been answering your phone. We were worried about you.” I try to keep my tone even; I don’t want to get him worked up if he’s in such a fragile state.
“I’m fine. You should just go.”
“No, you need to talk to me. He already lost one father figure, and I won’t put him through that again, Conrad. Tell me what’s going on.” My voice breaks at the end as I try to inhale a shaky breath, but I take a step closer to him, hoping he will let me inside. He does, but his steps sway a little as we step into the open-concept kitchen.
“Please just go, Enid.” His voice is slightly slurred, and that’s when I see it. The empty bottle of whiskey and the pistol sitting on his kitchen island. My eyes widen with fear, but he’s too drunk to notice.
“No! No! You don’t get to do this! Tell me what’s going on.” I beg him, slowly stepping around and putting myself between him and the countertop. I can’t, no, I won’t let him do this to himself or me.
“I don’t know.” He gasps for air. “It’s all going so well, yet everything inside me is telling me that I shouldn't be here, that my teammates have no reason for me to be their friend, that I don’t deserve this life, you, or Mace. There’s this cloud that lingers above me, sucking every ounce of happiness. I don’t know what to do. I couldn’t go through with it. Please, don’t let yourself get dragged down by me.”
“Conrad.”
“I’m begging you. Just leave.”
