Achieving Unbroken
Chapter Twenty Five

—

"You don't know me,
Don't you think that I get lonely?
It gets dark inside my head
Check my pulse and if I'm dead, you owe me"
You Owe Me | The Chainsmokers

—

Jason
[Tuesday, June 18th, 2017]

My feet lightly tap each step as I quietly jog down the staircase, attempting to get up and out before anyone wakes up and tries to stop me. No matter how I feel, I have to go back to school, just for the next two days — if I miss finals, I'm fucked. I just have to keep my head down, drag myself through the next two days, and suffer in silence.

Shouldn't be too hard. I've been doing it for two months.

"Where do you think you're going?" A piercing voice stops me in my steps. Turning on my heels, I see my mom sitting at the head of the dining room table; the scarce lighting from her computer illuminating her weary face. She hasn't been sleeping at all, which I should have considered when planning my exit, but I thought she would at least be in her room. My shoulders drop as I let out a heavy sigh.

"School. Finals today and tomorrow. Pertinent to me graduating."

I've already missed enough school that my family had to make an appeal to the district to give me my attendance credit for this year. The past month, my parents have been forwarding me emails from teachers that contain PDF's of worksheets and lesson plans. Some of my friends have even come by, to see if I would talk to them... I didn't. But they still left me notes and homework.

It's given me something to do, something to distract me from the dangerous thoughts that are continuously threatening to swarm my head.

Yet, even with all of that taken care of, without finals, I'm easily looking at retaking sophomore year. And there's no way in hell that I would bargain with that.

I may be depressed, haunted, and whatever the fuck else you want to call it, but I'm not going to just... Fail myself. I feel like I've already failed everyone around me by ignoring them, pushing them away, avoiding them. But something in me won't let me screw this up.

"I— I thought that your father and I would be driving you," Mom shakes her head, eyes small, like she's trying to clear her foggy mind.

It's okay, Mom. The world is blurry to me too.

"I don't want a sendoff. I go to school, take tests, come back. I'm not getting sent to space to spend months at the international space station," I deadpan, arms flailing. Her face falls.

"I know, but— I just thought—" She sniffles, and I feel like an asshole. She's going to start crying, because one son is gone, now the other is pushing her away; the two boys that she devoted years of her life to are slipping from her fingertips and she's trying so damn hard to hold on. "I wanted to be there for you."

She feels like she's losing me. She feels like she has failed me, she's failed as a parent, she has failed herself.

"Mom," I choke out. Her tears are making me want to cry, too. It's too overwhelming. "Please. I didn't want to make this a big deal. I'm trying to get through."

With her hand clasped over her mouth to prevent sobs from escaping, she nods. I walk briskly over to her, and squat in front of her, wrapping my arms around her in a hug. My hand comes up to smooth her hair and press her teary face into my shoulder.

"Be there when the girls wake up, 'kay?" I request. She nods against my shoulder, forehead lightly shifting the fabric of my shirt. "Loraine will be happy and they will too. I think it would be good to do."

Pressing her hands to my shoulders, she pushes herself off of me and runs her right hand along my cheek, gazing at me adoringly.

"When did you get so smart?" She gives me a small smile. "Go kick some ass for your mom, alright?" Her lips press furiously against my forehead, and I blink back fresh tears that are looking for an escape. "I love you so much, Baby."

Two tears leave my eyes. I squeeze my lids shut to prevent any more from following suit.

"I love you too, Mom." Her arms clasp around my neck for one more hug, and we stay like that for a minute. Before she treads through her day, before I have to walk through the fiery pits of hell, before we are reminded that the world is still spinning.

We pull away from the embrace, and I turn around to make a beeline for the door. I pry it open, trying not to make very much noise, and as I am shutting it I notice Mom watching me.

Giving her a final nod, I secure the door shut.

—

There are a few cars in the parking lot when I get to school. And while I keep telling myself to go, to haul my body out of the car and sulk through the day, I can't. The sun is fully up and the parking lot is packed by the time I determine I have to get out, because school is about to start.

I can barely register my feet moving one in front of the other as I walk from the cement to the linoleum floors of Bringham High. The floaters who reside on the edges of the halls stare at me instantly; like they recognize me, like they are trying to figure out where they know me from and what seems so familiar.

I don't snap at them like I'm tempted to do.

The cafeteria, though, is when my day really kickstarts.

No one immediately sees me. In fact, it takes me getting about halfway through the main hall that goes through the cafeteria for loud talking to turn into whispers of my arrival.

"Is this the first time he's been back?"

"Oh my God, Jason Oakland. He's back."

"I thought he switched?"

"I thought he dropped out."

"That's the kid with the dead brother, isn't it?"

All ignored.

When I'm almost to the door, I get stopped by a hand on my shoulder. It's Cannon. My mind screams no, not now, you can't do it, no matter how much I want to. I fold my lips in, and give him a small nod in acknowledgment. But without a word, I take his hand, remove it from my shoulder, and close the distance between me and the cafeteria exit.

I feel awful for doing that, but dealing with people is something that I am not mentally or physically prepared to do. I already feel sick enough, just being in this environment; interaction will set it off.

Doors open and close behind me, but I don't think anything of it until I hear my name.

"Jason!"

It isn't Cannon. In fact, it isn't a guy at all. The voice definitely belongs to a girl, but I can't think of who, and that is what makes me turn around.

And I am met with the sight of Lilla Harris rushing towards me.

Confused and even a little intrigued, I stop walking and wait for her to catch up.

"Lilla, um—" I try to say something, give her a decent excuse as to why I really don't want to talk to her or anyone, but she won't give me the opportunity.

"I know, I know. You don't want to talk to people, and you don't want to be here. I understand, you don't have to say anything. I just..." Blinking out of surprise, I don't stop her. I let her continue onto whatever she wants to say. "I just wanted to say hi. And if you need anything, I know we aren't close, but I'm here. If you need me. No pressure."

And then she hugs me.

Even though I had no clue what to expect when she came up to me, I was predicting the typical "I'm so sorry, if you need anything, please let me know. I am completely here for you in this tough time". She did do part of that, telling me if I needed her, she was around, but the way she went about it was different. More natural, less forced.

Overall, it shocked me, and I didn't even hug her back before she pulls away. Her eyes look up at me, searching for something that is unknown to me. I want to at least recognize what she said, so I do the first thing that comes to mind:

"Hi."

Her face visibly relaxes, mouth almost turning into what could be considered a smile. It worked. She found what she was looking for.

Without another word, she runs her hand up my arm, giving my bicep a comforting squeeze, afterwards brushing past me to the building that her first period is in.

I stand in the middle of the courtyard, watching her walk away, until the bell rings; and I know I'm about to endure six and a half hours of what could be highly considered a cruel punishment from the world.

As if taking my brother wasn't enough.