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Aah.I bent in half, the images from that year coming too fast but slow enough that I experienced them in fractured detail—so much pain.
I slammed mental walls up to keep the lake house out. The fear was a black vortex waiting to suck me in. I wanted to remember but not like that. I didn’t think I could take it, and my mind agreed. But fifth grade, the time after the lake house, had already slipped through the cracks.
Shane.I had been drawn to him, even at that age. Despite his strength, I’d sensed a vulnerability that had called to me. But instead of seeking friendship and solace, I’d lashed out viciously.
I dropped to my knees. The pain of losing my sister, of living with our grandparents, who had never wanted us and had barely wanted our mom, expanded inside me as if I were back there. My hands dug into my legs, helpless against the tiny and unhappy house I had been placed in after Summer and my mom were gone.
My grandparents were there. It wasn’t their old and brittle bodies that did anything to me but their whiplash words.
“Don’t get too comfortable, Winter. You’re here now but not for long,” Grandma snapped.
I said nothing—my first impression of Mom’s parents was terrifying. I couldn’t escape to Mrs. C’s apartment, where she would feed me and my sister.
There was laughter with her, happiness, and a space where we weren’t on guard, afraid we might say the wrong thing or do something that set off our mom’s moods. Or worse, whoever she had over.
My stomach growled loudly.
“We don’t have enough for an ungrateful brat,” Grandpa huffed, his gnarled and bony finger pointing to a corner in the three-room house, where a pillow and blanket were tossed. “You sleep there.”
That had been my welcome to their home. It was temporary. I’d known it would be, but while there, I took all my pain and fear out on the boy who wanted to talk to me at school.
“W-W-Winter.” He towered over me, a tension around his mouth whenever he spoke.
Something ugly and dark exploded inside of me. I wanted to hurt someone as much as I was hurting. I narrowed my eyes and stepped closer to the boy with the pretty blue eyes. “St-St-Stupid Stuttering Shane.”
He fell back a step, grunting his response. And when he turned, my hand shot out, my fingers curling around his arm, nails digging deep.
“W-W-What do you want?”
I felt people closing in around us. I knew who they were—not his brother or his cousins. He’d come to me. I stayed with the other mean kids. It was what I knew most. I could predict how they would respond, the outcasts. They were like vultures, sweeping in when the wounded one fell, and I was about to deliver the first cut.
“You shouldn’t even try to talk, St-St-Stupid Stuttering Shane.”
Someone laughed behind me—the nickname I’d given him taking shape on its own.
“You’re an idiot. Go away. No one wants you around.”
He squared his shoulders, rallying, but I wasn’t done. The cruelty that had been spewed at me for the years since Dad died poured from my mouth, desperately needing an outlet. I didn’t want to go down alone. I wanted someone else to suffer with me—he with his packed-full lunches his mom made for him. Sometimes they even had a note. I’d read one when it had fallen on the floor—I’m so proud of you! Have a great day, Shane. Love, Mom.
The last time someone had said they loved me was when Dad was alive. Mom didn’t even like me. Summer had been her favorite, if she was even capable of genuinely caring. She’d never wanted kids. It was something she’d told us often.
“You’re defective. Broken,” I said to Shane. “Your mom already has a perfect kid. Do everyone a favor, and just go away. No one wants you around.”
I gasped, shoving the memory away as fast as it invaded my mind. God, I’d been such a monster. I hadn’t stopped there. I’d found him, sought him out. I’d whispered things for only him to hear. Horrible things. And not once had he retaliated or hurt me back. He had known what lived inside me. I could see it when he’d looked at me, and it had only made me lash out harder.
The wallet lay open before me, exposing his driver’s license, which had kicked everything off. I grabbed the soft black leather to close it when something white poked out of the billfold portion. I opened it wide and withdrew the folded piece of paper. A part of me was terrified it would be one of the threatening notes left in my mailbox, but when I unfolded it, I learned how very wrong I’d been to think that.
The paper was aged, as it should be, since the first few handwritten lines made it clear Shane had penned it back in elementary school.
I can’t talk—Winter’s right. I’m stupid. St-St-Stupid Stuttering Shane. That’s what she calls me. I hate it. I can’t make my mouth form the words the right way. I don’t want to die, but I don’t know how to keep going. I’m defective. Broken.
She can see inside me. She knows, even if you don’t see everything wrong with me. Or how alone I am. Not good enough.
I’m sorry, Mom. I don’t know how to tell you goodbye. You work hard, and paying for the speech lady to help me isn’t fair. Phoenix will be here. It’ll be better that way. I just want the pain to stop. Please forgive me.
The piece of paper fluttered to the floor, covering Shane’s wallet. Tears rolled down my face, blurring everything around me. I covered my mouth with shaky fingers, stifling the sob that tried to escape.
My God, I’d done that to him. My fingers trembled, and tears filled my eyes, causing the print on the page to blur. I was almost the cause of him ending his life. Every toxic thing I’d said to him had been to try purging it from within, but I’d never thought about what he’d struggled with. And even after the first verbal attack, he’d returned and tried again.Why?
