Warning: Extreme angst. Theme is suicide. If you are depressed and suicidal…please don’t read this. Keep yourself safe.

 

THE SECOND TRIAL: AFTERMATH

"Joe! Open up! Joe!"

Frank banged on Joe’s door in all urgency. After returning home from the trial, Joe had bolted away from the rest of them, ran all the up into his room, slamming the door shut and locking it. Being terribly fast, Frank and Fenton could not catch up with him. Their hearts lurched when they heard a crash as they approached his room.

The sound was that of glass breaking on a hard surface.

And Frank’s fear surged through his consciousness.

"Joe! I’m your brother damn it! Open up!"

"Let me Frank." Fenton had position himself against the wall. Frank moved aside for his dad to ram the door down. Laura and Maggie had arrived as well and Frank’s heart sank when he saw his mother’s tear-streaked face, still streaming with precious watery pearls.

The lock gave way and the door swung opened. Fenton had used all his physical strength and more. He had drawn strength from his spirit as well. There was no way an inanimate object could stand strong against a father’s anxiety, a father’s love. It had to give and it did.

They found Joe sitting on the bed, a shard of glass in his hand and a broken pieces of a glass ornament on the floor. Approaching him cautiously, Frank did not even dare to breathe.

"Joe…put it down."

"I’m not going to do anything. I was picking up the pieces." Joe replied flatly. "I didn’t even cut myself. Why are you so worried?"

"Just put it down alright? We’ll sweep up the place." Frank cajoled his brother who turned around, glaringly.

Until he saw their panic-strickened faces and he relented. "I was really just picking up the pieces and I got so tired so I sat down…I’m sorry." He forced a smile for them and Laura ran towards him, hugging him, stroking his soft blond hair.

"Baby, don’t ever scare us like that again. Don’t ever…"

"I’m sorry mom. Never again. I promise."

Your promise’s so empty. Just like you now…

With the exception of Frank, they crowded around Joe who allowed himself to be manhandled by his family members- longing to give him warmth and love- for the very last time. Frank had not joined in. He stood still where he was, his expression unfathomable though sirens blared in his head, sirens that demanded his immediate attention.

His defense’s ridiculous! If they all want to hide from the fact that Joe really have a death wish, I’m not going to join them.

Because the piece of jagged glass was so deviously, temptingly and condemningly, kissing the thick blue vein running down my brother’s wrist.

***

PRESENT: THE LONGEST NIGHT IV

Frank decided to stop all pretense of sleep. Callie could not stop haunting him and Joe’s frightened look was etched into his memory. Sighing, he got up and went downstairs.

I should not have ignored Joe. It’s not his fault.

Frightened…he’s not sleeping…I thought he’s asleep…

My goodness! Was he trying to tell me about his torment finally? How can I have missed it?

Damn!

He cursed at himself for not noticing the cry for help and dashed out of his room. The house was in darkness. Thus he deduced that Joe was in his bedroom, perhaps having decided to retire for the night.

"Joe…" Frank spoke into the room. He groped his way around until he reached Joe’s bed. Adjusting to the darkness, his eyes saw that the bed was not occupied.

He must be angry…maybe went back to campus…I’ll call him…say I’m sorry…

He ran down the stairs, not needing light because he knew every step. At the foot of the maple staircase was the switches and being a little weary of darkness, Frank turned the lights on- not dimming it and thus the Tudor exploded into a burst of white light for the first time that night. He grabbed the phone off the wall mount and frantically dialed his brother’s mobile. A shrill ring startled him.

He did not bring his mobile…forgetful creature…oh well. I’ll just have to drive to campus…

Wait…

Frank spotted a piece of paper on the coffee table filled with his brother’s slightly curved and shaky handwriting. Joe was always untidy but he could write neatly if he wanted to; if he bothered to. Suddenly, Frank was filled with a sense of dread. It did not look like any song that Joe was penning.

It looks like a letter…

He read it and immediately his knuckles turned white. A split second numbness washed over him but his mind and heart decided to work with him this time. Refusing to let the horror overwhelm him, Frank dialed speedily into the cordless phone, waking the whole world.

Maggie, Chet, Tony, Phil, Callie.

Even Callie.

"Maggie! Frank here. Can you go see if your brother is in his dorm? You have Craig’s number? How? Nevermind… It’s urgent! Message my mobile once you have any news. I can’t talk…"

"Chet! Call Tony, Phil and Callie. We have to find Joe. I don’t know where he could be…but search all the areas we used to play and hung out in…everywhere…Drive around Bayport…Don’t ask questions! JUST GO!!!!" Patience ebbed away and he hollered into the phone just as Chet was going to assail him with questions.

Frank grabbed his car keys and dashed out of the house. Seconds later, his Mustang roared to life and he prayed really hard that he was not too late.

Suicide. Leaves behind a thousand deaths. Claims a thousand lives.

Joe, don’t do it. Have some common sense now! Nothing…nothing you can do…will ever make me despise you! Damn!

Damn me and my helplessness when I could have helped.

God, don’t let me be too late. Joe can heal…he is trying…. Don’t let him lose himself. Please….

Please.

***

It was almost three a.m in the morning. He was so tired and yet so restless and somehow, he made his way there, one of his favorite spot in the whole wide world. Bayport was full of sights like that, being so close to the ocean. He loved the ocean, loved it with a passion.

And there he was, dressed in a thin, white t-shirt and a faded pair of blue jeans, sitting atop the rocky cliff, almost right at the edge. He had just arrived, his black van a few meters away. Though he could not care for classical music and operas, he could play them beautifully on the piano. Though he did not care for those works of immortalized prodigies, the opera from the ending scene of Faust kept replaying and replaying in his mind.

The ocean was a resilient entity. It crashed against the stoic cliff with gusto, with vehemence. Frothy waves unceasingly tried to push the irritating barrier an inch back. However, the cliff was emotionless; indifferent. It had not even noticed the commotion going on at its feet. It had not noticed the commotion for thousand of years since it came into being.

Frustrated and wanting a distraction, the ocean scanned around and found one and shifted its attention to the tiny being sitting on the edge of its accursed enemy. Now, its waves instead of making noisy, useless crashes- seemed to be lulling him, seducing him, clamoring for his attention. Promising him that it would welcome him into a damning, watery embrace.

He closed his eyes, stood up and stretched his hands out- his tormented face could not find release. The damnation of Faust begun and the women screamed. Maybe the evil would win again this time.

The wind beat on his face and it was so cold. The cold came from within and without and he shivered. Demons waged war in his mind and he could not think. Pitched forks ripped his already shredded soul into nothingness.

And the breaking of his heart. The breaking of his heart.

The achingly beautiful, sapphire gems revealed themselves.

He looked down.

The waves cajoled.

***

I wish to tell you Frank. When you asked me, I wished I could just unload everything to you. My guilt, my sorrow and the story of my freakish hands. I’ve seen you. You try not to let the hideous sight affect you but like I’ve said, I’ve seen you. Your eyes are always questioning. But it’s really not that easy you know…to tell you everything.

Because you’ll despise me. For all that I have become, you’ll hate me.

And you’re the last person in the world who can despise me. I depend so much on you to keep me sane. More than you know.

But I have learnt long ago, when they kept me in solitary confinement for something that was not my fault; for something that was done to me…that the world is unfair.

In that lonely small cell, I bang the walls incessantly. I wrestled with the door. I screamed, hollered and shout until my throat was raw and I cried. I cried pining for her, I cried for myself. I cried until I believed I was tearing blood.

Blood from my lost soul.

And I stopped suddenly. You know why? In those cells, where you don’t know if it’s day or night- not that it matters since time ceased to be of any importance- you can cry all you want. You can scream until you die from being out of breath.

No one will hear. No one will listen. And even if they did, no one will care.

And this is the secret you want me to tell. Only…I can’t tell you. You’ll question more and more until you see the virus that’s killing me slowly everyday.

It’s probably good that when I did want to…you did not have the time to listen.

Because if you did, and heard and digested the nightmare that’s not yours to share in…

You’ll run away from me. I can’t have you run away from me. I’ll rather die than to see it happen..

Don’t blame yourself. Its not nice I know…but I really don’t know what else to do. What else I can do…it’s so bleak now…I’ve tried…I had been trying so hard but something…something keep dragging me back…

I can’t live like that. I love you guys so much. So very very much. My heart will break if any of you cry. So don’t…pretend I have never existed.

I wished I have never existed. Promises made to me were all taken away. I am not Joe anymore…not the one you knew. I should have seen it…when Iola died…I was already so depressed, immersing myself in sports and our occasional cases, smiling, laughing and joking when I don’t really feel like sometimes.

When Vanessa came into my life…and I thought the storm had passed. She told me everything, about her suicidal pass but she survived. I told her about the times when I really felt like screaming and screaming until someone hears. She said she heard…and that I don’t have to scream anymore. The storm should pass.

It hadn’t. How did life turned out like this Frank? I have no answers. The sun hurts my eyes.

I think I am going to hell.

But I love her so very much.

The nightmare will die with me. But I think I won’t see her…I don’t think I’m going up there. The waves are concentric and heading only one direction.

Down.