Page 82 of Toxic Obsession

I can’t let it out, can’t let you know

I can’t stand this nothing, can’t take the low

I smile pretty and play make believe

I cross my fingers and pray you won’t leave

When the cycle makes me bitter and angry

I pray you’ll see through it and still love me

Can you see me through it and still hold fast

Can we build a love that will last

Please, oh please, don’t let me go

Show me love like I’ve never known

Ky had never mentioned he wrote poetry. Blowing out a shaky breath, I tried to inhale past the crushing agony in the center of my chest, but I couldn’t. Ky’s truth was on these pages, and I had no fucking clue what had happened to him.

I turned page after page, spotting poem after poem. After about a third of the way through the book, there was a full page of his handwriting. Before I read it, I wanted to see how many more entries there were. I thumbed through the last part, catching snippets of what he’d written, until I reached the last page, which contained another poem. I hiccupped through my tears as I read.

Abyss

The dark abyss welcomes me

Like an old friend

Arms open wide to pull me in

Sinking into her cool embrace

I give in with simple grace

There’s comfort in the quiet dark

She’s forever left her indelible mark

Swallowing painfully over the anguished lump in my throat, I hid my face in his shirt, allowing my sobs to break free. How did I not know that he was in so much pain?You did, and you asked for help.I leaned my head against the wall, reminding myself of everything I’d done to try and save him. After a few minutes, the hollowness in my soul spread, leaving me numb after my cries have stopped.

Curled into the corner of my brother’s closet, I stared at the black book of horror. I flipped the pages to the beginning and read under the light of the cell phone. I checked to see if a date was on the page, then realized he had started writing a year before the shooting.

September 14th, 2018

I thought I was going to fucking puke, but I did it. I finally told one of my closest friends that I was gay. I figured she would yell and scream at me, but instead, she kissed my cheek and told me she was proud of me. I hadn’t shared that with anyone other than my best friend, Wyn. My sister is the only person I really trust in this world.

I bit my lip, willing myself not to cry anymore. My head was already pounding from the barrage of emotions and sobbing.

What surprised me was that Bell burst into giggles once she’d assured me that she still loved me. I was completely confused why she thought me being gay was funny. It wasn’t. It was terrifying. Last soccer season, some of the guys were walking around naked in the locker room with their dicks swinging, and Lance Rutledge saw me looking. He popped me with his shower towel and called me a faggot. Of course, the other jocks jumped in and before I knew it, I was covered in red and purple welts all over my body. I fucking hate them. It took me a few days to realize that Lance had never covered himself after he caught me. He strutted. Guess I hold someone else’s secret, too.

Anyway, I’m getting sidetracked. From that experience, I had no idea how Bell would react, but I’d hoped she would still be my friend. She said her giggles were because she’d had the biggest crush on me since she was fourteen. It made me feel good, and if I’d been able to fall in love with a girl, it would be Bell, but my brain and body just aren’t wired that way. I do love her, though. I would do anything for that girl, too. After I told her I was gay, and that night, she messaged me and for the first time in my life, we talked about cute boys. She made my fear disappear like a puff of smoke. But I wish she could make me disappear too.

I sat frozen in place. Ky and Bell were friends at that point. Good friends. “He loved her” kind of friends. So what went so wrong that he took her life? Shifting to get more comfortable, I continued to read.

Fully entranced with Ky’s journal, I lost track of time. It was nearly four in the morning before I came out of my reading daze, and I had no idea if Quinn had woken up and started looking for me or not. I scrambled to my feet, swearing as sharp pinpricks shot through my legs. I shook them out, then wrapped the book in Ky’s shirt and tiptoed out of his room.

Thank God, Quinn was still asleep when I returned. The journal was the last piece of Ky I had, and I needed to process my emotions before I talked to Quinn. I couldn’t handle both of us falling apart. I heaved a sigh and tucked the book under the jeans I’d tossed on the floor. I had every intention of telling Quinn about the journal, but I wanted to read it first. I decided to tell him I found it after we got up and showered in the morning.

---