*trigger warning: heavy mentions of suicide, death

P R O L O G U E
❛ the worst day of my life. ❜

THE COUNSELLOR TOLD ME TO WRITE THIS DOWN, so that's what I'm doing. Well, technically she said I could either sketch or write what happened, but I've ruled illustrations out of the picture, since I can't even manage stick men, let alone a fine art re-creation of it.

She says I'm supposed to write down what I feel. But that's the problem — I don't know how I feel.

I know the kind of things they're used to hearing: scared, alone, angry, frustrated. Why me? Why did it happen? Could I have done anything? But if I told her what I'm about to tell you, then she'd probably think I'm nuts. Or that it's some... 'metaphor' for my trauma, or whatever. That's not it at all.

So, I should probably tell you what happened. Just over a year ago, it was one of the worst days of my life. It started out pretty normally, which is the freaky part. The first half of my day was completely oblivious to the hell that would follow later.

I ate breakfast. I went to school. I did my work, as always. I went to cello practice, as always. I came home. I did my homework, as always. Again, I practiced my cello — but that was when things took a turn for the worst.

There was a phone call. I could hear it from my room, and I didn't think anything of it until I heard Mom's voice after she answered it. I kept playing because I didn't want to act like I was eavesdropping, but some part of my heart sank when I caught some parts of the conversation ("Hello?... Maggie! How are you, it's been so long... No, Sean isn't home, he's out shopping, but he should be back in a few... Maggie?... Maggie— slow down— I can't hear you. Tell me what happened...") At first I'll admit, I tried to make a connection between what I was hearing — Mom's concern, the fact that Aunt Maggie was calling — and I thought that maybe my Grandma had died. She had been hanging onto life by a thread for years now, battered by old age and hardly mobile anymore, so we'd all thought it was only a matter of time until she passed.

     It wasn't until I heard the words "I can't believe it" and "How horrible" that I stopped playing. When I listened closer, I could hear Mom choking back tears, almost as if she was trying to sound strong. She sounded too shocked, and I didn't like it one bit. ("Maggie, I'm so sorry... I-I'm... if there's anything we can do, we— o-oh, Sean! Hang on Maggie, Sean's here...") My Dad came through the door at that point, his keys jingling in an upbeat manner until the moment he must have seen Mom. She said something to him about that the call was for him, but she couldn't get any more words out before I heard her gasp through a sob.

     By now I had started going downstairs, and I'd perched myself nervously on one of the middle steps as I peered at them in the living room. Mom was sitting on the couch, her head in her hands and her shoulders rigid as she tried to compose herself, whilst Dad was holding the phone and staring absently at the wall. He went really quiet for a while. Now I didn't know what the hell was going on, and I wished that someone would just fucking tell me what was wrong—

     Then really suddenly, like he'd just been smacked around the head, Dad flinched, sharply sucking in a breath as he briskly jogged up the stairs past me — I don't think he even knew I was there.

     I went to see Mom after that, and she just hugged me for a really long time. Dad was crying upstairs, I think. The less they said, the more frantic my thoughts became. They started to drift to something more serious, and unexpected, although nothing could have prepared me for what I heard later that evening, after my parents had composed themselves. They sat me down in my room, sitting opposite me in a freakishly formal way, and they told me straight...

     My Uncle was dead. That in itself was a shock, but when I asked how, it was the cause that made my stomach flip; suicide, they said. Suicide.

     It seemed so... unreal. And there were a million things going through my head, all equally overwhelming, that I didn't even hear my parents trying to introduce the facts surrounding his death after this piece of news.

     I can't tell you exactly what it was I felt. I just know that I didn't understand a lot of things, which I still don't even now. I couldn't understand why he did it. I couldn't understand how he thought that was his way out. He didn't even leave a note. I don't know who I was more angry at — me or him. Was I even supposed to be angry? And then I started thinking about how I would never see him again, and felt awful that I didn't see him as much as I could've.

     The rest of the evening was really weird. That night, for the first time in years, I dug out this tatty old stuffed bear he gave me at my Christening — it had turned from a baby blue to a weird, mouldy grey colour — and I held onto it tight as I was kept awake by my racing thoughts.

I don't know if I can write much more. But to cut a long story short, the day my Uncle killed himself was one of the worst days of my life, and it was hard to believe that anything from here on in would top how awful that experience was.

Turns out I was wrong. This isn't even the thing I'm supposed to be writing about, and it's a huge secret, but if I don't get it out somehow I think I'll explode. So, I'm going to tell you — imaginary reader, that I don't know — everything from when things started to kick off, to the inevitable climax.

This... is the worst day of my life.

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A/N:

i've been so nervous to write this prologue, re-writing it over and over again, because i've never mentioned themes of suicide in my books before and i'm really hoping that it hasn't come across as insensitive or romanticised, because that's the last thing i want.

but yeah, this is the beginning? it's quite depressing, but i promise a lot of the book is fairly upbeat and comical, in the way that IANOWT is. it's gonna have a kind of circular narrative to it, as well... you'll soon find out :)

one last thing whilst i have your attention: if you need someone to talk to, please do not suffer in silence. 116 123 is the uk samaritans helpline if you're struggling, they're open all day every day, and they are here to help. and if nothing else, just talk to someone you trust. you are never alone!!

published: 6th march, 2020