10 / 15 / 03

Before you burn this letter in an open fire, I just need you to listen. Please.

I want you to know how sorry I am. I'm not innocent of so many things, but for causing you pain is one of my deepest regrets. I want you to be safe, Easton, and more importantly, I want you to be happy.

Not a day goes by where I don't think about you and Mom. I wish I could tell her I love her one more time. When was the last time I even said those three words to her? Months, days, years?

I love you, Easton, and I'm sorry.

Damon

The words burn deep into my flesh, as if I they were being branded into my skin. My mind is thrown into a whirlpool.  My body cascades into numbness, yet at the same time I can feel everything all at once. The monsters trapped inside of me scream and claw at my skin, tearing my flesh apart in an effort to escape. They, too, don't want to drown with the rest of my body being sucked lower and lower into the depths of the ocean. They don't make it out. I watch in agonizing pleasure as they gulp their last breaths of air along with me.

I sit in the kitchen as Stef and John are arguing behind their bedroom door. Emotions are coursing through me so fast that It becomes impossible to tell which is which. I don't know if I feel like crying, screaming, or puking. Probably all three. Memories dance across my vision at a sickening speed.

Eli, Drew, and I were laughing, the buzz of Friday energy fresh in our bloodstreams. I still had to go to work, but that evening we were planning to get together to play video games and stuff our mouths with pizza. Eli was in the middle of doing an impression of some guy from TV when he stopped mid sentence. His gaze fell straight forward and a frown grew from the corners of his lips. I turned to see what he had seen.

Damon was there. At first I didn't recognize him. His face was shaded by his hoodie and even then, his eyes were a deep shade of plum underneath. A part of his lower lip was swollen. Damon looked like he had just been through a car wreck. To this day, I wonder if he actually did get into one.

Eli and Drew went ahead of me, waiting by the front gates of the school. The crowd of kids parted like the sea around me and the man slowly walked towards me.

"What are you doing here?" I whispered curtly once Damon was close enough.

His breath smelled rancid. "You got cash?"

"No."

"Yeah you do. I know you do."

"I don't. Just go." I tried to brush past him but he grabbed my arm.

Damon gulped and stared at me, his eyes red and teary. "Just give me a little. I only need a little." I only stared back at him. Suddenly, without warning, he pushed me to the ground. The people around us stopped to stare. "Just give me the money, East!" He yelled, spit flying out from his mouth.

"No!"

And then Damon did something then that I don't think I could ever forget. He punched me. He just reached down and forced his fist onto my nose. Just like that. It took a fraction of a second. Then he dug through my backpack, stole twelve dollars, and ran.

The thing about that memory is that it was the first time Damon ever hit me. Until that day, I never realized how violent he actually was. I didn't realize how messed up he had become.

I wish I had known then what he was capable of.

I'm sitting on the bench at the start of the soccer game. I can't seem to focus. My mind keeps going back to that letter, reading it over and over in my head. I can only imagine how lost Damon must be to the world right now. He didn't even get the date right.

I don't feel guilty for him, though. He feels regret. He knows just what he did. For some reason, though, that doesn't bring me as much comfort as I thought it would.

"Easton!" Coach yells my name and I'm suddenly aware everyone is looking at me. "What are you doing? Get on the field!"

I pop up from the bench, shake my hands to get refocused, and head out onto the field.

Near the end of the game, I suddenly hear someone shouting my name. It sounds different than the shouts from the stands.

"Easton!" The voice sounds bright and full of energy. It's oddly familiar. I turn around and I see him. He's wearing his usual baggy cargo pants and some loose-fitting tee. His black sneakers grind against the concrete ground as he moves the ball swiftly between his feet. He was always good with footwork.

Damon passes the ball to me and I watch as it spins in the air, landing a little to my left. I take the ball.

"Score, East!" Damon yells. I listen. I move the ball past the other neighborhood kids swiftly, trying to imitate Damon's footwork. The goal, marked by two empty soda cans, is in the clear now. I take the shot.

"Goal!" Damon yells, running wildly down the alley and high-fiving everyone in his path.

Just as he reaches for my hand, I'm suddenly aware that I'm not in the back alley of our apartment complex playing soccer with a group of inner city kids. Ace high-fives me, his hand fire against mine.

"Dude," Dylan says, clapping me on the back. "I have never seen you play like that."

Coach smiles at me. "You keep surprising me, Easton. I don't know what world you were living in back there, but you played a sick game."

I feel like I should be happier about the game than I really am. Everyone's cheering for me. My teammates are clapping me on the back. Even some of the kids from the other team are giving me subtle nods. Why can't I just have this moment?

I try to smile anyways. Everything is good, I tell myself. It's all good.

The day feels like a blur. I can't think or feel anything. Mom's face is burned into the back of my mind and along with it, I see Damon standing over her. He's wearing that same expression he wore when he punched me after school. There was no remorse, no sorrow. He looked dead.

That night, Cooper, Jenna, Naiya and I meet up at Andy's. For some reason, Cooper hasn't broken up with Jenna yet. I have no idea why, considering he got really worked up about it a few weeks ago. Maybe others were starting to take notice.

"I think my dad was pretty happy with the game," Cooper says after we've ordered. "He was really starting to stress me out, you know. Like 'Coop you better not let them score tomorrow' and 'if I don't see you practicing when I get home then there's gonna be consequences, kid'."

Jenna shakes her head. "He sounds like Troy Bolton's dad."

"Yeah," Naiya agrees with a nod. "All you gotta do is say 'no, Dad. I'm giving up your dream." We all laugh.

"You guys did good," Jenna says. "Well, maybe everyone except you, Coop." She touches his arm and laughs. I wonder if Jenna knows that Cooper wants to break up with her. I feel bad for her, honestly. Out of all the girls Cooper's dated, she seems the least annoying. Plus, I think she genuinely likes him, not just the way he looks.

"So," Jenna continues, her teeth as white as the bright fluorescent lights above us. "How long have you guys been a thing?"

I turn to look at Naiya for a moment before answering. "A couple of weeks now, I guess. I honestly have no idea why she decided to date me."

"Oh yeah," Cooper adds. "The first time they met, Easton was passed out and gashed his chin open."

Jenna laughs. "Seriously?" She's looking at me and I suddenly feel embarrassed.

I look down at the table. "I tripped and hit my chin. I saw the blood and I just... I don't really like seeing blood." I try to say it as casually as possible, but it comes out strained. None of them are smiling anymore.

I feel Naiya's hand reach for mine underneath the table. She sends me a reassuring squeeze, as if she knows what happened. I don't know whether to feel comforted by the motion or annoyed.

I regret saying what comes out of mouth next. "I got a letter," I blurt. I suddenly feel extremely awkward saying this because it's pretty personal. I don't think I've ever really hung out with Jenna more than twice. But now I have to explain myself. "I got a letter. From my brother."

"Wait. You have a brother?" Cooper looks more confused than the face he pulls during precalculus.

I nod. My throat feels like it's being constricted. "I got the letter this morning." I stare intently at the table. The table is slightly speckled and if you look hard enough, it's reminiscent of the stars. It distracts me for a blissful second.

Out of my peripheral, I see Cooper staring intently at Naiya. They're sharing looks of confusion.

"What did it say?" Naiya asks gently, squeezing my hand.

"Um... Um..." I can't seem to manage to get the words out. Here we again with me making any get together awkward and depressing. "He-he s-s-said..." I'm holding back the giant lump that has suddenly grown at the base of my throat. My face grows hot from embarrassment.

I wish I could just have a normal conversation, but I wanted to tell someone about the letter. My visit to Dr. Connoly's is too far away for me to wait that long. I want my friends to know.

I think of trying to regroup. If I can just pull myself together before I have a panic attack in the middle of the diner, then it'll all be okay. "Be right back," I mumble before practically sprinting to the bathroom. I bet they're used to me running so often.

As I stare at myself in the grime-coated mirror, I regret talking about the letter in the first place. I could have been perfectly happy telling some joke or some stupid, funny story. We could have relished in the epicness of the April Fool's Day prank or joked about Ace falling down the stairs the other day. We could have done literally anything else. Instead, I'm staring at my wet face through the mirror of some restaurant's restroom. Then it hits me.

Something feels wrong. I feel the hairs on the back of my neck spike up. A shiver runs down my spine and my body goes cold. A bead of sweat slowly traces a path down my forehead. Suddenly, I'm very aware that I'm holding my breath, yet I hear breathing.

There's someone else here.

Their breathing starts to become more ragged, once I've taken notice of it, almost like sobbing. Without my control, my feet step away from the sink and towards the farthest bathroom stall. I stop a foot or two away from the front of the door, close enough to hear what's going on but far enough to be able to run if necessary. A pair of black sneakers and camo cargo pants are visible underneath the stall.

"I'm sorry," the person behind the stall cries softly. Their voice echoes in the enclosed space of the bathroom. It sounds hollow, like the sound is drifting up from the bottom of a well.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

The voice starts to speak louder.

"I'm sorry!" They wail, the sudden cry piercing my ears. It takes me by surprise but my feet stay planted.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

And then their cries start to sound different.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

It doesn't seem to sound like crying at all.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

It sounds almost like laughing.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Pure, maniacal laughing.

Their laughter grows louder and louder, like their laughing directly into my ear. It fills the bathroom, echoing off the walls and drowning out everything in its wake. My ear drums are bursting. The walls are pulsing with the rapid beating of my heart. My body feels like I'm in the center of a drum. I not only hear the laughter, I can feel it, pounding against my chest in rhythmic throbs. It constrains my lungs and I'm suddenly aware I can't breath.

He continues to laugh.

"Easton!?" A hand is on my shoulder, firm and warm. I whip around, expecting to see the laughing man standing there behind me. Instead, I see Cooper's distressed face. "Oh geez. Are you okay?" He asks, his voice shaking just slightly.

I can't understand him. I can't concentrate on anything he's saying. I look back at the stall in the very back. There are no more feet underneath.

I attempt to swallow the rock that has lodged itself into my throat and take in a shaky breath. "He-he was here," I hear myself mumble. My gaze is still intent on the stall. "I heard him. He was..." I gulp. "He was laughing." I can barely get the words out.

"Easton..." Cooper says in that pity-filled voice. "Who was here?"

I start to form the word, but I stop. I try again but I just can't. I can't say his name right now. I shake my head and stare intently at the floor. My stomach is filled with whirlwinds. For a moment I wonder if this floor will become home to my half-digested lunch.

Cooper hooks his arm underneath my shoulders and brings my arm over his for support. "Do you wanna go home?"

Surprisingly, I shake my head.

"Do you wanna go outside?" To this, I nod. Together and very awkwardly we make our way out of the restroom. Naiya and Jenna stand up out of their seats. The other customers stare.

As their curious faces look up at me, I'm suddenly overwhelmed with nausea. My stomach convulses painfully and it feels like I'm on one of those Ring of Fire rides where the coaster just goes around and around in a single loop. I want to know who came up with that idea. My guts spill out of my mouth like lava. The customers around me grimace. If not for the situation, I would have laughed at their reactions.

Cooper leads me out of the restaurant and into the parking lot where he sets me down on a curb. I take a deep breath. The fresh Colorado air helps a little.

Naiya and Jenna are close behind. "Here," Jenna says, holding out a cup to me. She looks as confused as she does worried. I guess Jenna doesn't know that much about me.

"What is it?" I ask, taking the cup from her. I'm surprised at how hoarse my voice sounds.

Jenna takes a seat next to Cooper. Naiya is to my left. "Ginger ale," Jenna answers. "One of the waitresses told me to take it out to you."

I nod and hesitantly drink from the cup. I'm not thirsty, but it tastes sweet on my acid-coated tongue. For a few minutes, we sit in silence. I sip from my cup of ginger ale and the other three take turns watching me, the sky, and the restaurant a few yards in front of them.

Finally, Cooper speaks. "Has this ever...happened before?" He sounds tentative, like he's walking on eggshells. He's afraid to set me off.

I pull my lip in between my teeth for a moment. "No."

Gently, Jenna asks "what happened?"

Naiya reaches for my knee and squeezes it. It was small motion, but for some reason, I feel a little strengthened by it. I take a deep breath. "Damon sent me a letter this morning." When I say his name, acid briefly invades my throat. I push it back down. "He said he was sorry. That was all it said, basically. It was an apology or something. I-I don't know."

I take a second to breath. "In the bathroom, I thought I heard him. I thought I heard him saying he was sorry, over and over and over again. But then..." My throat catches and I can't bring myself to say the rest. Instead, I lean forward and press the heels of my hands into my eyes. Hot tears stream out of me like gushing water after a dam has broken. My body starts to shake and I cover my mouth to quiet the sobs that escape me. I'm briefly reminded of the sobs coming from that last bathroom stall.

Arms wrap around me, squeezing me tightly in a warm cocoon. I'm reminded of my mom in that moment, not of her body but of her embraces. She used to hug me so often in those later years. At one point, I stopped trying to escape them. Then at another point, I started to seek them out.

I'm reminded, then, that even if my mom isn't here to give me hugs anymore, I have my friends here that care almost as much as she does. It might not be enough to make me forget, but it might be enough to make me happy. Someday.